


Burn

by BuddysImpala



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Barnum carrying Phillip out of the fire was everything, BoyxBoy, Dark, Fire, Hurt/Comfort, I'm an angsty bitch, Implied abuse, M/M, PTSD, Period-Typical Homophobia, Romance, Zac Efron - Freeform, barlyle - Freeform, bisexual circus dads, hugh jackman - Freeform, i'm trash, lets just say I can relate to Phillip a lil too much, most of my work is usually dark to some degree so please proceed with caution, this entire movie was everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-03 19:54:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 71
Words: 21,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14003502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuddysImpala/pseuds/BuddysImpala
Summary: Phillip pushes Barnum away after the fire.Barnum struggles with what to do about the secrets of that night.





	1. 00




	2. 01

He squints against the light, groaning and draping an arm over his face. The groan gives away to a cough, rumbling from deep within his chest, and his eyes water. He opens then and tears involuntarily roll down his cheeks.

Before he can reach up to wipe them away, he feels a calloused thumb on his cheek. He lifts his head as much as he can manage, vision adjusting to the light.

"Barnum?" he croaks. He coughs and flinches again.

"Shh, now. I'm here." The older man is seated in a chair next to the hospital bed, seated so closely he could easily reach out and touch Phillip as he'd just done, one leg crossed over the other. His face has been washed, but faint traces of soot remain on his cheeks. His eyes are red.

"Barnum, what—"

"You shouldn't talk," the older man frowns, pursing his lips together. He uncrosses his legs and leans forward in his seat. "You're lucky those lungs are working at all."

Phillip scowls and rubs his threat. "What happened? Where's Anne? Lettie—" a coughing fit. He squeezes his eyes shut and rolls onto his side. His other side is burned, bandaged. The sheets feel cool on his skin through the hospital gown.

"Everyone's fine, Li—Phillip. No one else was in that damn...that damn building. You're safe."

"Anne?" Phillip gasps. The more alert he becomes, the more it hurts.

"She's fine. Everyone's fine. I was just..." A pause that doesn't go unnoticed. "...checking in to make sure you were okay. Get some rest, Phillip."

Barnum stands from the chair and Phillip opens his eyes long enough to watch the older man leave the room. He pauses and turns back to look at Phillip, who squeezes his eyes shut. Barnum mutters something Phillip can't hear, then leaves for good.

Alone, Phillip slowly opens his eyes. Tears blur his vision, but not from the pain.

He can't remember... Why can't he remember?

The smoke, the burning, the pain—

He remembers Barnum lifting him, carrying him out, shielding him from the smoke as much as possible, but—

Why can't he remember what happened before he was carried out of the building?


	3. 02

"I just don't understand what possessed you to run into a _burning building_ like that!"

Barnum, who had returned from visiting Phillip in the hospital, sighed and ran his hands over his face. He and Charity were in the kitchen, Charity with an apron wrapped around her waist, preparing supper, and he seated at the table. He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Did you expect me to let Phillip _die_ , Charity?" he demanded, raising tired hazel eyes to meet hers. She hesitated and wrung her hands nervously.

"Well, no, but...there were others around to help—"

"I would've done the same damn thing had it been Lettie or Anne or any of the others in that building instead of Phillip," he insisted.

_Would he have, though?_

_He was scared to answer that question._

Charity dabbed at her eyes and swallowed a lump in her throat. "When those beams collapsed, Phin, I thought—"

"Daddy, Daddy!" his daughters squealed, racing each other from their bedroom. Caroline beat Helen and climbed into her father's lap. Helen sat at his feet on the floor and tugged at his pant leg.

Charity quickly quieted. Barnum chuckled. He tightened one arm around Caroline and reached down to run his hand through Helen's soft locks. "Hello, girls," he smiled gently.

"Daddy, is Mr. Carlyle gonna be all right?" Caroline asked, peering at her father with bright eyes.

"Phillip will be just fine, honey, don't you worry about that. He'll be released from the hospital in a few days." He lifted Caroline off his leg and set her on the floor, next to her sister. "Now, why don't you girls go off and play? Your mother and I have got some things to discuss."

Helen rushed forward to give her father a kiss on the cheek before she and her sister skipped away, announcing that they were going to play jump rope outside. As soon as they were gone, Charity turned to face her husband with her hands on her hips.

"Is Phillip really going to be all right, Phin? I don't want you lying to the girls if he—"

"Phillip is going to be _fine_ , Charity," Barnum insisted, "believe me."

But, the truth was, Barnum wasn't even sure if he believed himself.

 


	4. 03

Face lined, Barnum fisted his hands in his hair as he tried to focus on the paperwork spread out before him on his desk. With the circus gone, he had no idea how he was going to pay for the—

Somebody knocked on the door.

Barnum sighed. "Come in," he called wearily.

The doorknob twisted and the door swung open, revealing Phillip - bandaged, but alive. He managed to give the ringmaster a small smile.

Barnum gasped and jumped to his feet. "Phillip! I had no idea you were being released today. What are you doing here?"

"I had to come see how my partner was doing, didn't I?" Phillip shuffled into the room.

"About that." Barnum visibly backed up. He pressed his lips together, shoulders stiff, and stared at the younger man. "I don't know how I'm going to keep the circus alive," he sighed after a moment. "After the fire, and all of the expenses—"

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," Phillip interrupted. Then he launched into an explanation, telling Barnum all about how he'd saved up his part of the profit - and he was willing to spend it all if it meant saving the circus.

Barnum stared at him, dumbstruck, for a moment. Tears briefly stung his eyes. "You don't have to—"

"I want to, Barnum." Phillip's bright eyes shun and the soft, somewhat shy smile returned. "After all, you saved my life. How could I ever repay that?"

"I was only doing what was right."

A pause. Phillip made no mention of what happened in the building and Barnum deflated like a balloon.

_He didn't remember._

"Well, this is what I believe is right. Let me do this, Barnum. After all - we're family."

 


	5. 04

Phillip took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of dust and peanuts. The new tent stood proud and he could hear the bustle of activity inside. Resting a hand on his side, flinching slightly at the feel of healing wounds, Phillip took another breath and marched into the tent.

"Hey, Phillip!" Lettie greeted, beaming at him. "How ya feeling?"

The corner of Phillip's lip curled up in a half-smile. "All right, I suppose. Where's Barnum?"

"In the back, of course, getting ready for his act. People have been talking about the return of the circus for days, y'know."

Phillip nodded absent-mindedly, flicked his wrist in a short wave goodbye, and set off to find the ringmaster. He still can't do much, not with his injuries from the fire healing as they were, but he felt the persistent urge to do something to help out. It would be the least he could do.

He owed Barnum his life.

Suddenly, a sizzle and pop sounded behind him. The young man gasped and twirled around, facing a couple of performers practicing a fire act. Eyes wide, face white, the performers took notice of the man staring at them and one raises his hand in acknowledgment.

"Sorry! We've got this taken care of." He motioned toward the flame, which was much more under control. Phillip turned around and hurried off without a word.

Not paying much attention to where he was going, the young man let out a gasp as he collided with someone and stumbled back. Hand falling to his side again, he lifted his eyes to see the ringmaster adjusting the brim of his top hat.

"Barnum!" Phillip exclaimed, delighted to find his target, hand falling from his side. "I'm glad I found you. I was wondering—"

The ringmaster hurried off without so much as a glance the younger man's way.

Phillip watched him go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, obviously, this takes place in the movie universe! Only difference (besides the pairing, ofc) is that Barnum is still ringmaster when the new circus opens~


	6. 05

After the show that night, Phillip couldn't find Barnum anywhere. He approaches Lettie, who's getting ready to leave the tent, and places a hand on her shoulder.

She whirls around, but her eyes soften upon seeing her intruder. "Hey, Phillip."

"Lettie, have you seen Barnum?"

She chuckles. "You've been asking for him quite a bit lately, haven't you?"

Phillip's cheeks warm up, but he quickly shakes his head. "I just wanted to thank him, you know. Thank him for...for—"

"Phillip, you've thanked that man a million times." The bearded woman chuckles. "But, if you must know, I believe he's taking the Missus and their girls out on a date night. He's just left, but if you hurry you may be able to catch him."

Phillip thanks Lettie and rushes out of the tent, hand falling to clutch his side as he half-runs, half-limps outside. In the distance, he can see Barmum helping one of his daughters into a horse carriage.

"Barnum!" Phillip calls as loud as he can manage. He wheezes a little, but his call has the desired effect. Barnum turns his head and they briefly make eye contact.

Phillip rushes forward as fast as he can, eyes lighting up as Barnum waits for him beside the carriage. They haven't had the chance to talk all day.

Then, much to Phillip's horror, Barnum turns to climbs into the carriage. He kisses his wife on the cheek.

"P.T., wait!" Phillip calls desperately.

The sound of hooves clacking burst through the young man's eardrums as the carriage takes off, leaving Barnum's partner behind. Heaving, Phillip holds a hand to his side and falls to his knees on the ground, unable to support himself on his wobbling legs any longer.

He lifts his head to watch the carriage go, tears of frustration and pain rolling down his cheeks.

 


	7. 06

Barnum's chest tightens as he looks back at his partner, on his knees in the grass. Some friends rush toward the young man to help and Barnum sighs in relief. He's able to relax a little, but the guilt still gnaws at him as he faces forward.

Charity places her hand on her husband's knee and smiles up at him. "What's the special occasion, Phin?"

"What?" Barnum huffs in mock annoyance. "A man can't take his beautiful wife and daughters out every once in awhile?"

Charity beams at him, but inside she can't help but think there's something more to Barnum's story than just 'wanting to take them out.'

And she's right.

The ringmaster has been thinking about Phillip lately. Wondering, waiting to see if he'd bring up—

But he knew Phillip never would. Phillip didn't remember.

_Or did he?_

The whisper inside his mind sent a chill down Barnum's spine. He smiled back at his wife and squeezed her hand, perhaps a little too firmly. Next to them, Helen says something about the pretty lights decorating the city. They're not too far from their destination - Barnum's taking all three of his girls out to dinner in the city, and then to see a play.

_Perhaps one of Phillip's favorites—_

Barnum shakes his head. Charity raises an eyebrow, but, thankfully, the carriage comes to a stop before she can make a comment. Barnum is quick to rush off the carriage , and then helps both his daughters down too.

Charity is the last to get off the carriage and by then, both small girls are leading their father down the city streets with eager hands.

 


	8. 07

To say Phillip wanted to die was an understatement.

He'd made a fool of himself running after Barnum, only for the ringmaster to - literally - leave him in the dirt. He'd had help, of course, but the thought of explaining exactly why he'd been running after the man embarrassed him to no end. Luckily, his friends were more concerned with whether or not he'd re-hurt himself.

But he still didn't want to show up to the circus the next day.

He'd gotten there as late as he could possibly manage - bad idea, as Barnum was fuming. Face bright red, he spat at Phillip as soon as the younger man walked into the tent.

"Where have you _been_?" Barnum snapped. Phillip took a step or two back, holding his hands up defensively in front of him.

He'd never seen the ringmaster this angry before.

"You realize we've got a show to perform, right?" Barnum spat. He rose a hand in the air and for a split, terrifying second Phillip thought the older man might strike him.

Tears filled his eyes.

Taking the hand he'd lifted into the air, Barnum scratched the back of his head, mumbling to himself. He was still angry - by the red in his face, that was obvious - but he wasn't going to strike Phillip as he had feared.

However, before Phillip could compose himself, Barnum locked eyes with him. The older man's jaw dropped in shock and his raised hand fell to his side.

"My God, Phillip, are you _crying_?"

"I...I have to go," Phillip murmured, pushing past Barnum. The older man grabbed him by the arm and he yelped. Barnum dropped his hold, but he didn't have to - Phillip yanked his arm away, holding it as if he'd been burned again. Barnum couldn't see his face - if he could, he'd be able to see the tears now rolling freely down his partner's cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Carlyle, why don't you just—?"

"I'm going to go help Anne," Phillip muttered, marching away.

This time, the roles were reversed - Barnum, the mighty ringmaster, felt confused and alone as he watched Phillip go.

 


	9. 08

"Are you okay?"

Phillip jumped a mile high at the soft, gruff voice behind him. He slowly turned to face Barnum, who closed the door behind him and leaned against it.

"I thought you had a circus to run."

Only about twenty minutes had passed since their encounter in the tent.

"Lettie's taking care of things. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Phillip muttered, turning away. He took a deep breath, forcing air into his lungs, and closed his eyes.

_Maybe if I close my eyes, he'll go away._

"I thought you were going to help Anne."

"She didn't need any help."

_Keep them closed. He'll leave soon._

Heavy footsteps approached and Phillip visibly tensed. He gasped at the hand that grasped his shoulder, and finally turned to face the older man, opening his eyes.

"What do you want?" he sighed, slumping against a wall.

"I didn't mean to make you upset, Li—Phillip."

Phillip didn't say anything.

"You've been acting odd since the fire and I just wanted to make sure—"

"So have you," the younger man muttered.

Barnum blinked. He scratched the back of his head again, but this time his partner didn't flinch. "Excuse me?"

"You've been...avoiding me. Treating me like I..." Phillip hesitated. "Like I..."

"Like what, Phillip?" Barnum murmured.

"Like I don't exist."

Barnum took a step back and gazed down at the younger man. Their eyes met briefly before Phillip's flicked away.

The ringmaster felt more confused than ever. Did Phillip remember, or didn't he?

"I just want to know what I did wrong," Phillip muttered. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

Barnum frowned. "You didn't do anything wrong, Phil—"

The door burst open. Phillip let out a surprised cry, but it fell on deaf ears.

"There you are!" Anne's brother, W.D. Wheeler, burst into the room and seized Phillip by the arm. "You're almost up! Come on!"

Wheeler practically dragged Phillip away. Barnum followed at a distance. Phillip looked over his shoulder at Barnum, blue eyes dark with hurt.

_Why?_ they asked.

 


	10. 09

It was late. Barnum knew Charity would be wondering where he was, but he couldn't help himself.

He hadn't seen Phillip since Anne's brother had led him away.

Phillip wasn't around the tent after the show closed, leaving the acts to clean up and prepare to leave. Barnum stood in the center, eyes scanning the tent, when Charles came up to him.

"If you're looking for Carlyle, I believe he went out," the short man said.

"Out?" Barnum dropped his head, holding onto the brim of his hat. "Out where?"

"Where else?" Charles asked. "To the bar, I'd imagine."

*

The bar was crowded with men eager to let loose on their nights off, the dawn of the weekend. When Barnum spotted Phillip, the younger man had his head back, shot glass to his lips. The ringmaster hurried over to him.

"Phillip, there you are!"

With a hiccup, Phillip turned to Barnum, eyes bloodshot, reeking of liquor. Barnum took a step back as he eyed the younger man in shock - how much had he already had to drink?

"Oh, so first you avoid me," Phillip hiccuped. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, "but now, all of a sudden, I've got a stalker?"

"We need to talk," Barnum murmured. More and more people were starting to point at them - murmuring about the 'circus freaks,' he imagined. "Please, Phillip."

Phillip eyed him for a moment, leaning back in his seat, before bursting out into loud, drunken laughter.

"Now you want to talk?"

"I'll explain everything," Barnum murmured, dropping his eyes. "Just - meet me out back in five?"

Phillip quieted, and stared at him again. Then he waved Barnum away with a familiar flick of his wrist.

"All right, all right," a drunken giggle, "I'll meet ya out back. But you—" he hiccuped again, "you only get five."

Barnum hesitated, then nodded. Better five minutes than nothing. "That's fair," he agreed. He turned to leave, silently praying that the younger man would fulfill his promise.

Once outside, Barnum leaned against the side of the building and took a deep breath. Up above, stars twinkled brightly in the sky, and a cool breeze brushed past. He closed his eyes, lost in his thoughts, until he heard a crash and a familiar giggle.

"Whoops," Phillip giggled, stepping around a (thankfully empty) trashcan. He looked up, waved at Barnum, and rushed toward him.

A few steps away, he tripped.

"Easy now," Barnum gasped, rushing forward by instinct to grab the younger man. Phillip laughed again as he gripped Barnum by the front of his shirt.

Barnum shook his head. "Maybe I shouldn't have come. Are you sure you're in good shape to talk?"

"I'm fiiine," Phillip sang, looking up at him. They locked eyes.

Blue eyes flashed in the darkness. Barnum's breath caught in his throat.

Before the ringmaster could stop him, Phillip reached up on tiptoe, placing a drunken, open-mouthed kiss to Barnum's lips.

 


	11. 10

"Phineas! Where have you _been_? What is _he_ doing here?"

Charity stared in disbelief at the two men on her doorstep. Barnum was struggling to hold up a very drunk, very out of it Phillip. The younger man's head lolled onto Barnum's shoulder.

"I went out," Barnum explained quickly, "and I found him...like this. I don't know where he lives so I—"

"You brought him here." She rested a hand on her hip.

Barnum nodded. "Please, Char. I couldn't leave him alone and I...I didn't know what else to do."

Charity stared at them a moment, then sighed. "Fine, you can set him up in the guest bedroom. But be _quiet_ , Phin - the girls are asleep. I don't need them seeing Phillip like... _that_." She motioned vaguely toward the younger man.

"Thank you." Barnum kissed his wife on the cheek before bringing Phillip inside.

"I'm going to bed," Charity announced. She went upstairs ahead of them and, after a moment, Barnum heard a door close.

"Where are we going?" Phillip giggled as Barnum struggled to lead him up the stairs. Finally, the ringmaster sighed and deemed it easier to sweep Phillip - literally - off of his feet.

"The bedroom."

"Ohhh," Phillip giggled again and draped his arms around Barnum's neck. Barnum's face reddened.

"You're drunk, 'Lip. Very drunk."

Phillip rested his head in the crook between Barnum's neck and shoulder. The ringmaster sighed and finally, _finally_ , made it to the guest bedroom.

"All right, down you go."

Barnum tried to set Phillip down, but the younger man clung to him, almost dragging them both to the floor. The ringmaster sighed and shook his head as he straightened himself up and opened the door. To his surprise, Phillip was the first to stumble inside. He followed.

Before he had time to even blink, Phillip was practically on top of him. He grabbed the taller man by the arms and pushed their bodies close, forcing Barnum's back against the door and, effectively, closing it.

"What are you doing?" Barnum demanded.

"I want you, Barnum."

He stood on tiptoe and leaned in close, almost brushing their lips together, but Barnum turned his head away. Phillip's lips brushed against his cheek instead. He grasped Phillip's shoulders and held his partner an arm's length away, as much as it hurt him (hurt him? What was he _thinking_? _Charity was a few doors down_ ) to do so.

"Listen to me, Phillip. You're drunk. You won't remember any of this - don't do something you'll regret."

"Oh," Phillip giggled. To Barnum's surprise, he smirked.

"Like I 'don't' remember that moment in the fire?"

 


	12. 11

Phillip frowned. He slowly sat up, hand to his forehead, and stared through half-asleep eyes at the room in front of him.

It took a moment to realize that he was not, in fact, sleeping on his cot in his tiny apartment. In fact, the bed he was in was massive - probably a king-size.

Feeling much more awake now, his cheeks flamed red at the realization. Had he had _another_ one night stand blackout?

The young man flung the covers away from his body and sighed in relief. Aside from his boots, which he saw were placed against the wall beside him, he was still fully clothed. His clothes were rumpled from having slept in them, but other than that not so much as a button was out of place.

Once the relief faded a little, the headache set in.

He groaned.

He may not have have slept with anyone last night, but he sure did have one hell of a hangover. And - where _was_ he, anyway?

Deciding he wasn't going to get many answers lying around in bed, Phillip forced himself up on trembling legs. He squinted in the dim lighting and decided to forego his shoes. A bed meant he had to be in someone's house, right? He didn't want to be rude.

In his mind, his father whispered a sneer. He winced. Mumbling a curse under his breath, he ran a hand through his bedhead, trying to tame it as much as possible. Then he crossed the room and opened the door.

A long hallway stretched before him. Wherever he was, it sure as hell was nicer than his dumpy little apartment. The other rooms were silent so he made his way to a staircase, clutching the banister for dear life. He hardly trusted himself, in his hungover state, to make it down the stairs safely, but he managed.

Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, realization set in. He could hear voices. One of which was very familiar.

_Barnum?_

Phillip hesitated a moment ( _why?_ his mind whispered. _It's only Barnum_ ) before following the voices into what turned out to be the kitchen. The family of four was seated at the table and Caroline was the first to notice him. She lifted her head, eyes lighting up instantly.

"Phillip!" she squealed. Jumping up from the table, meal forgotten, she rushed forward to give the man a hug. Helen waved from the table, cheeks pink, mouth chewing hurriedly.

"I'm sorry," Phillip sputtered, hand automatically falling to ruffle the girl's hair. "I didn't know I was - I mean, I don't remember coming—"

"It's all right, Phillip," Charity smiled soft, but her eyes were wary. "Phineas helped you here last night."

"He did?" Hesitant blue eyes flicked over to Barnum, who was only just now even acknowledging the other man in the room.

"I didn't recall where you lived," Phineas explained, dabbing at his lips with a napkin. Phillip stared at the ringmaster as he lifted an eyebrow.

"Come sit, Phillip," Charity offered. There was an empty chair beside her, across from Helen. Barnum sat at the head. "Eat something. It may help with your hangover," she chuckled.

"Oh, no, really, I don't mean to intrude. I—"

"Actually," Barnum interrupted, rising from the table. His wife and girls looked at him with similar expressions of confusion. "There was something I'd like to discuss with you, Mr. Carlyle."

Phillip stared at him blankly.

"May I speak with you in the other room? _Alone_?"

 


	13. 12

Barnum took a deep breath as he waited for Phillip in his office. The man had insisted on helping Charity with the dishes and, while he knew it didn't exactly paint him in the greatest light, Barnum was simply too jittery to assist. So he'd excused himself to his own office to await the younger man.

Finally, Phillip came into the room, approaching Barnum slowly. Blue eyes flashed curious and confused.

"Close the door," Barnum motioned. Phillip nodded and the door closed with a soft click.

"What's this about, Barnum?" Phillip asked. He folded his arms and leaned against the wall.

Barnum took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Do you remember anything that happened last night?"

"Last night?" Phillip frowned. "Um, there was the bar...I got drunk." He winced as if just remembering that he was, in fact, still suffering from a hangover.

"Yes. What else?"

"I...I don't—"

Barnum cleared his throat. "You mentioned the fire."

"The fire?" Phillip stared at him blankly.

"Yes, Phillip."

"Why would I—"

Phillip froze. His eyes widened and locked with Barnum's. Barnum lowered his head and nodded briefly.

"I remember," he whispered.

 


	14. 13

Phillip's eyes were wide and dark with tears. His lower lip trembled. Barnum gaped at him for a moment before taking a breath, composing himself.

"You were conscious," Barnum murmured, taking a step forward. "When I came in after you, you were pinned under a beam and were screaming yourself raw. But you were awake. Alert."

Phillip nodded, silent. He wrung his hands together in front of himself.

"You saw me and you went hysterical. Remember that? You bawled. I got the beam off of you—right as some others collapsed."

Phillip sank to his knees on the floor, hands pressed against his eyes. Then they dropped to cover his mouth as if to keep from getting sick.

"Despite not being able to move underneath that beam, you didn't break anything. Your side was scorched, though. You shouldn't have been able to walk at all. Except—"

Phillip moaned into his hands.

"You lurched yourself up and flung yourself at me. Remember?" His voice was low. Soothing. He'd touch Phillip if he could, maybe rub his back, but he didn't want to startle the other man. "You managed to muster up your last ounces of strength before you passed out for good. And you...do you remember what happened next, 'Lip?"

Tears streamed down Phillip's face. Last night, he'd been cocky, loud, as he relayed the story to Barnum, but not now. Now all he could do was sit in silence and take the blow Barnum was about to force upon him.

He knew why Barnum had been avoiding him. If he were Barnum, he'd avoid himself too.

"You kissed me, 'Lip. You kissed me right before blacking out in my arms."

 


	15. 14

Phillip's head was between his knees. He took a deep, shuddering breath and closed his eyes.

"... 'Lip?"

Barnum approached him slowly and knelt down, cupping the younger man's chin in his hand. Phillip recoiled from the touch as if he'd been burned and slapped the ringmaster's hand away. He scrambled to his feet.

"You did this to me," he spat, eyes narrowing, scowling at his partner.

"I...don't understand," Barnum said as he slowly stood up. "What?"

"I'm not like you!" Phillip's eyes hardened as he backed away, inching closer and closer to the closed door.

Barnum grabbed his arm. "Phillip—"

"Don't touch me!" Phillip shouted. "You...You're utter _filth_ , Barnum."

"Phillip, _you_ kissed _me_."

The younger man snorted. "A likely story. I was unconscious, you fucking pig."

Barnum rubbed his face. What was happening? "Listen to me—"

"Do your daughters know their daddy is a cocksucker?"

Barnum's vision clouded over - not from tears, but disbelief. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, begged, the younger man.

"Stay the hell away from me, Barnum," Phillip spat. He stormed to the office door - was there one second, gone the next.

The door swung shut with a bang of finality.

 


	16. 15

Barnum sat, head in his hands, at his office desk when there was a light knock on the door. Like a child, he peered through his fingers at the door before dropping his hands and calling, "Come in."

The door opened and a worried Charity came into the room with Helen peering at her father from behind. Barnum managed a ghost of a smile at his daughter, but it vanished quickly.

"Are you all right, Phineas?" Charity asked. "Phillip seemed a bit...frustrated when he rushed off. Didn't even stop to say goodbye to the girls."

Barnum sighed. "We had a...disagreement."

"Oh?"

"Business stuff, of course. It was nothing."

Helen soon became bored of the conversation and ran off to find her sister. Barnum watched her go, running a hand through his hair.

"I should be getting ready to go," he announced, standing up. They had a performance later that night.

"What about Phillip?"

"Don't concern yourself, darling." He placed a quick, chaste kiss upon her lips before dashing out of his office. "I'll speak with him tonight. It's fine."

"All right...but, Phin, before you go..."

Barnum sighed and turned back to face his wife. "Yes, dear?"

"I found this while straightening up the guest room." She held out her hand. "I figured it must be Phillip's."

Barnum stared down at the object in his wife's hand.

Phillip's dip pen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Phillip Carlyle never rlly had, like, a "lucky pen" or anything in the movie, but bc he used to be a playwright I decided to give him one that he still carries around


	17. Playlist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DONT KNOW WHAT IT IS ABOUT THIS FANDOM THAT MAKES ME EXTRA AF
> 
> but I made a lil playlist for "Burn," my Barlyle fic
> 
> just a lil thing, 10 songs, check it out!

 

Songs:

1\. As We Go Along - The Monkees

2\. Blackbird - The Beatles

3\. Cold As You - Taylor Swift

4\. Dancing With Our Hands Tied - Taylor Swift

5\. Fireproof - One Direction

6\. The Great Pretender - The Platters

7\. I Miss You - blink-182

8\. Learning The Game (Undubbed Version) - Buddy Holly

9\. Light - Michael Nesmith

10\. Miss You - Louis Tomlinson

 


	18. 16

"Lettie, have you seen Phillip?"

Lettie ran a brush through her hair as she turned to Barnum. "I think he and Anne went to get some things from the back tent," she responded.

Barnum nodded his thanks and, hand firmly in his pocket, ventured off to find his partner. He'd just exited the main tent when Phillip and Anne approached. Phillip had something - a prop, perhaps - tucked underneath his arm.

Barnum's gaze immediately fell to their interlocked fingers.

"Hey, Barnum," Anne greeted, smiling, lips freshly coated pink. Phillip stared at Barnum and squeezed Anne's hand.

"Hi, Anne. May I speak to Phillip for a moment?"

"Oh, sure. I should go see if W.D.'s ready for tonight anyway."

The girl kissed Phillip on the cheek before walking off. After she left, Phillip folded his arms over his chest.

"Stay the hell away from me, Phineas."

"I didn't want to start anything," Barnum murmured.

"Then why the hell are you here?"

"It's _my_ circus."

" _Our_." Phillip rose an eyebrow.

Barnum sighed. His eyes briefly met Phillip's, but the younger man scowled at him with so much hatred in his eyes that he had to look away. He stared down at the ground instead as his hand fished into his pocket.

"You, uh...forgot this." The pen laid in his palm.

Phillip's eyes widened. He didn't do anything at first, didn't say anything, didn't take the pen.

Then he shoved Barnum. The bigger man staggered and the pen almost fell from his hand.

"You bastard! Why the hell do you have that?!"

 


	19. 17

Barnum's eyes widened. "It's just a pen, Phil—"

"Give it to me!"

In his anger, Phillip didn't realize Barnum was, in fact, holding the pen out to him. In his eyes, Barnum was holding it out in front of him, taunting a dog with a treat, and he yanked the pen from the ringmaster's grasp.

The pen snapped. Dark ink leaked out onto Phillip's hand, on Barnum's sleeve. The ringmaster barely had time to react before—

" _NO!_ "

Broken bits of the pen fell to the ground and Phillip fell to his knees to retrieve them. His shoulders shook and, to his horror, Barnum realized the younger man was crying.

"...'Lip?" Barnum whispered, bewildered. He knelt beside his partner, put his hand on the younger man's back.

Phillip recoiled. "Don't...Don't _fucking touch me_!"

With the pieces of pen in hand, Phillip stood up. He bolted - as fast as he could with his still-healing burns - for the backstage tent.

Still kneeling, Barnum watched him go.

 


	20. 18

Phillip stormed into the backstage tent, tears wettening his cheeks, hands stained in ink. Charles stared after him.

"What's the matter with you?"

Phillip didn't hear him.

Phillip didn't hear anything.

_"I wanted to give you this."_

_A small box was passed to the young man. He stared at the giver of the gift, who met his gaze with cold, hard eyes._

_"Well?" the giver snapped._

_Throat suddenly dry, Phillip took the gift and unwrapped it as if dealing with fine china. He removed the pen from its box and stared down at it._

_"For your...writing. You better not disappoint us, Phillip."_

_"N-No, sir." He cleared his throat. "Thank you, sir."_

_Phillip wanted to cry, but he didn't dare risk being whipped again._

_"It's just a pen," the giver spat after a moment of silence, "but an expensive one. Don't you break or lose it, you hear? Or there'll be hell to pay."_

_It may have been just an expensive pen, one that would probably run out of ink sooner rather than later, but Phillip Carlyle had never received a gift in his life. He forced himself to swallow a lump in his throat and nodded, looking up into the giver's eyes. Cold stones stared back at him._

_"Thank you, Father."_

 


	21. 19

That night, all Phillip wanted to do was sleep. It wasn't that late when he arrived home to his little apartment, still in time for dinner, in fact, but he pulled off his shoes and slumped into his armchair. With ink still stained on his sleeves and a final close of his eyes, he was out.

_"I'm sorry, Father."_

_"What do you mean you broke the pen?" Mr. Carlyle snarled._

_"I didn't mean to," the young man choked, "it was an accident."_

_Phillip was a grown man, but suddenly he was eight again - pleading with his father, hoping against hope that he wouldn't be beat again, please God, not another beating—_

_Mr. Carlyle rose his cane. He didn't even need it to walk - the cane had one purpose. A purpose that Phillip knew all too well._

_Phillip screamed. The cane didn't strike him, but his arms - they bled. He screamed as the welts burned his skin with an invisible touch._

_The bleeding wouldn't stop, wouldn't stop, wouldn't **stop—**_

With a gasp, Phillip startled awake. It took him a second to realize where he was, and what was that _thing_ he was _hearing—_

Somebody pounded on the front door.

 


	22. 20

Barnum groaned, a headache thundering away against his temples, fingers tangled in his hair. He was practically facedown on the desk when somebody knocked at his door.

"Come in," he sighed, barely summoning the energy to lift his head. All he could think about was the argument with Phillip...the pen snapping in the younger man's hand—

His young partner walked through the door.

"Oh." Barnum immediately straightened up and folded his hands at his desk. "Hello, Mr. Car—"

Barnum paused. He sucked in a breath.

Phillip didn't just walk into the office, he limped. A nasty, dark bruise swelled underneath his left eye and his lip and cheek were cut deep, his cheek especially so. Though his attire kept up his typically neat appearance, his hair was disheveled and he clutched at his side.

The same side that had been burned.

Barnum nearly went slack-jawed watching the young man stumble into his office. Phillip's eyes were bloodshot - almost wild, but not drunk.

Barnum's partner licked his chapped lips, took a deep breath, and winced - though, Barnum noticed, he tried not to show it. He squeezed his eyes shut, shuddering as he spoke.

"I quit."

 


	23. 21

"Mommy, why isn't Daddy eating?"

"Daddy had a rough day at work, sweetheart."

"But he works at the _circus_!"

"Circuses are hard to maintain," Charity chuckled. "Caroline, why don't you and Helen eat dinner in your room tonight?"

Caroline, who'd been silent up until that point, nodded. She and Helen took their plates and left the kitchen, disappearing from sight.

"She's right about one thing, though," Charity mused, "you're normally never this silent, not even on a bad day."

"Today was so much more than just bad," Barnum groaned. He set his fork and knife down and pushed away from the table, standing. Charity rose with him.

"It won't do you any good to just bottle everything up inside, Phin," she murmured, placing a hand on her husband's arm.

"Phillip quit." Barnum ran his hands over his face and sighed.

"Why on Earth would he do that?"

"You should have seen him, Charity. He looked like...like he'd been assaulted."

Charity gasped. "Did he go to the authorities?"

"I don't...think so."

"Why—"

"I don't know." Barnum closed his eyes. Tears wettened his eyelashes. "But - there's something I need to tell you."

 


	24. 22

Phineas Taylor Barnum had not cried this much since his father died. He got teary-eyed over things, sure, he wasn't a stoic man. But this was the kind of cry that left a person with a headache until they went to bed. The kind that clogged up noses, left you gasping for breath. It was the kind of cry that left the longing of sleep behind in its wake. Sleep to crash into, emotionally and physically exhausted, until rising the next morning - or afternoon or night.

He told Charity, in gasping breaths, about what he thought running into the fire. That, _yes_ , he loved the others as he loved Phillip and he'd do the same damn thing if it were Lettie or Anne or Charles in that burning building instead. But he loved Phillip in a different way too, a way that left his chest aching and empty. He loved Phillip in a way similar to how he loved Charity.

He _loved_ Phillip.

He told her about the kiss. Through gaspy, shuddering breaths he begged her to understand that _no_ , it was not he who initiated the kiss. He would never purposely hurt her like that. And they'd kissed a second time too - only, Phillip had been _drunk_. He swears up and down Phillip had been _drunk_ and taken him off guard. It was open-mouthed, it was sloppy, it didn't even last two full seconds.

But, he did admit, curling up into himself on the kitchen floor as his wife rubbed his back, he had _liked_ it. He had liked them both. The taste of Phillip's ashy lips on his, surrounded by heat and fire and death. His lips, wet and sloppy and tasting of alcohol, and the briefest hint of his tongue. He didn't mean to hurt Charity, the kisses _weren't his fault_ , but he had _liked_ them both, and God it killed him to hurt her. It killed him to hurt her because _no_ , he had never felt this way about another man, never, _never_. His love of his wife was real and genuine and he cherished all those years they spent together, he _loved_ her and he loved their girls. He would _die_ for her and their girls.

But he _loved_ Phillip, _too_.

And, he realized, he would _die_ for Phillip, _too_.

He couldn't help it. He didn't know why he felt that way, but it was _Phillip_ and, God, Phillip was just so _perfect_. Only, Phillip hated him - had probably _quit_ because of _him_ \- and _he didn't know what to do._

Charity listened.

 


	25. 23

Phillip laughed and hiccuped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Another one," he slurred, pushing the empty glass toward the bartender.

"Sir, are you all right?"

"Another one!"

Eyeing him, the bartender slid the man another drink. He grinned and closed his eyes as he chugged—

_"Mother? Father? What are you doing here?"_

_"You invited us for supper, remember dear?"_

—it, nose wrinkling at the familiar burn sliding down his throat. He finished and slid the glass back over—

_"What's that on your sleeve, Phillip? Is that ink?"_

—to the bartender. Head lolling to the side, he motioned vaguely for another one. He could—

_"Father, please, I can explain!"_

—barely keep his head up.

_"Stop it! Stop it, stop it, John, you'll kill him!"_

Groaning, Phillip picked up the glass. It slid from his fingers and shattered to the floor.

_"You bastard! Do you understand how much that pen was worth?"_

Phillip looked up at the bartender. The man's lips were moving, but he couldn't make out what he was saying.

_"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—please!"_

His vision faded to black and Phillip Carlyle fell to the floor.

 


	26. 24

Charity Barnum held her weeping husband to her chest. When his words subsided and only his teary gasps filled the air, she pressed her lips atop his head.

"You love him." She spoke the words carefully, tasting them, the 'L' word sounding foreign on her tongue.

"I do," Barnum rasped. He squeezed his eyes shut, shuddered. Her long, elegant fingers ran up and down his arm. She took a breath.

"Some people long for a life that is simple and planned," she murmured, bowing her head. Her eyes fluttered shut as she laced her fingers together with her husband's. "I threw away that possibility the moment I married you."

"I'm sor—"

"Phillip is a wonderful man. The girls love him."

"I know." Her words brought on a fresh wave of tears. "But, after I confronted him - he hates me, Charity."

"Hate is a strong word, my love," Charity murmured. "From what you've told me, he feels something for you too. He just...needs a little help in realizing it's all right."

Barnum lifted his head. "It's not that simple. Men like us, we - they kill us, Char. It...It's terrifying." His voice broke. "Me, I'm used to backlash. But, Phillip - Christ, the man is afraid of his own father."

"Perhaps that's why he's pushed you away," the woman mused. She squeezed her husband's hand.

"Because...of his father?"

"The world is scary enough and not everyone has a father as wonderful as yours was, Phin," Charity whispered. "Trust me - I should know."

"What can I do?" Barnum's voice cracked again and he wrapped his arms around his wife's waist. "He's...avoiding me."

At that, a small smile played at Charity's lips. She rested her hands on Barnum's cheeks and lifted his head. Soft hair brushed against his face as she looked down. "You waited for me, didn't you?"

A tear rolled down Barnum's cheek. Charity wiped it away with her thumb.

"Go to him, Phineas. Talk to him, let him know that he's all right, his father doesn't have to know. The least he can do is listen."

 


	27. 25

Phillip came to, gasping. He rolled to his side to throw up when he realized - he was moving. And looking out a window. And what were those - hoofbeats?

Phillip lurched up and hung his head out the window, gagging as he got sick. He was still half-drunk, the alcohol he'd consumed enough to last him awhile, but he jolted at the feel of a hand on his back. He spit out the last of the bile and wiped his mouth before backing into the carriage.

"It's all right," a smooth voice murmured, "we're going home. It's okay."

"Barnum?" Phillip' slurred. His vision blurred as he turned his head and made eye contact with the older man, who smiled soft at him. Phillip winced, but couldn't remember - was he mad at the man for something? Why did he feel so weird?

Barnum tilted his head, his face blurring in Phillip's hazy vision.

"You were out cold when I found you, 'Lip. Drank yourself half to death. Take it easy."

Phillip groaned and laid back down, head unknowingly in Barnum's lap. He felt something strange in his hair - but before he could register what that feeling was, his vision faded out again. He groaned.

"It's all right." Barnum's voice fell away the more his grasp on consciousness slipped. "I've got you."

 


	28. 26

When Barnum found Phillip in the bar, just minutes after he'd passed out, he was overcome with that same feeling of urgency he had during the fire. He'd snapped at everyone to back off, someone go get a carriage, someone go find Phillip's home address, someone help wake his ex-partner up.

The feeling of carrying Phillip in his arms was also starting to become familiar, though he liked that feeling much more. He carried the man to his apartment and found a key underneath the welcome mat.

His heart sank as soon as he carried Phillip inside. He hadn't known his ex-partner had lived in such...bare conditions. Most of the apartment was one room, save for a bedroom and wash area, and the room, at that, was not a big one. Phillip's parents were wealthy, but, clearly, they had denied their only son much of that wealth.

Now, as Barnum sat propped up against the headboard of the rickety bed, he waited for Phillip to wake up. The bed, like the rest of the apartment, was small and modest, barely big enough to fit two, and the younger man had curled himself around Barnum's waist, arm draped over the man's stomach. Barnum breathed deep and ran his fingers through Phillip's silky hair.

Finally, a soft groan alerted Barnum to his ex-partner's rousing. That groan became louder, more pronounced, as Phillip brought his hands to his bruised face.

"Hey," Barnum murmured.

"Hmm?" Phillip frowned, scrunching up his nose.

He looked up into the ringmaster's concerned eyes.

 


	29. 27

Upon seeing him, Phillip jerked away. His eyes widened as he flung himself too far back and fell off the bed, falling on his ass with a thump.

He let out a howl and grasped his side. He curled in on himself.

"Phillip!" Barnum shot up and knelt on the floor beside the younger man. Phillip breathed heavily and flinched away from his touch.

"Get away from me!"

"You're hurt."

"What are you doing here?"

"Who did this to you?"

Phillip squeezed his eyes shut. "Leave me alone you c-coc—"

"I'm not going anywhere until you talk to me, Phillip."

Barnum grasped Phillip's hands in his. Phillip jerked away, but the attempt was weak. Tears welled in his eyes.

"I know you didn't quit the circus for no reason," Barnum whispered.

"You know why!"

"Then tell me, Phillip. Say it. If I'm the reason you quit, tell me now and I'll leave you alone for good."

Phillip stared at him, but didn't pull away. Taking a deep breath, Barnum gently grasped one of the man's wrists and pushed his sleeve up. Bruises, welts, whips from the cane littered his arm.

"There are more, aren't there?" the ringmaster whispered.

Phillip tried to look away, but Barnum used his other hand and laid it against Phillip's cheek, forcing eye contact.

"Did your father do this to you, Phillip?"

Phillip broke.

"Over a pen. A _pen_."

Tears streamed down his face and he sagged against the older man, wrapping his arms around the man and burying his face in the ringmaster's chest. His shoulders shook. Barnum held him tight.

"He doesn't have to know," Barnum whispered.

"He'll find out."

Barnum tilted the younger man's face up, gazed into flooded eyes. Phillip no longer resisted, though he continued to tremble under the older man's touch.

"If you want me to go, I'll go."

Phillip froze.

"If you want me to stay..."

Swallowing, Barnum slowly leaned forward. Phillip reached up, wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. He closed his eyes as Barnum's lips brushed against his.

"I'll stay."

 


	30. 28

"You kissed me," Barnum whispered. They sat on the floor, Barnum's arms around Phillip's waist. The younger man had gone into a silent sort of shock. "The fire - do you remember that?"

"I thought I was going to die," Phillip whimpered. "I thought I was going to die so I - I—" He broke off with a sob and covered his mouth with a hand.

Barnum kissed Phillip's temple and the younger stiffened.

"It's all right," Barnum murmured. "I'm here."

"But, Barnum," Phillip gasped, "what about Charity?"

The older man's sigh was long, heavy. His arms tightened around Phillip's waist.

"We're...figuring things out."

"I'm sorry," Phillip moaned. "I didn't mean to—"

"It's all right. She's...well, I wouldn't say she's _okay_ with it, but she took it well when I...told her." The ringmaster cringed.

Phillip noticed.

"What's wrong?" he murmured.

"Well, I, uh..." Barnum paused. "Let's just...say my confession was not one of my finest moments."

A beat of silence.

"I hurt you."

"No. Don't beat yourself up over it. I was not the most civilized toward you after the fire either, Phillip, and I...I sincerely apologize for that."

Phillip closed his eyes. He nestled closer to Barnum, wincing at the flare of pain that shot up his side. Barnum's arms loosened a tad and he kissed Phillip's cheek.

"I never meant those things I said about you, Barnum," Phillip's voice cracked. "I'm sorry. My father—"

"Shh. He can't hurt you."

"...Phin?" Phillip was half-asleep from emotional and physical exhaustion, content to simply sit there in Barnum's arms for the rest of time, and his voice was simply a murmur against the silence.

"Hmm?"

"Can I come back to the circus?"

"Of course, Phillip."

Phillip laid his head on Barnum's shoulder.

"I wanna come home."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a word of warning since most of y'all are new to my fics - this fic is nowhere near over :'D


	31. 29

Anne squeezed Phillip tight the first time he came back to the circus.

"We missed you," she murmured in his ear before pulling away, beaming at him. Her fingers ghosted over his.

Phillip reddened. "Anne, I, uh—"

"You and Barnum?" She tilted her head to the side.

Phillip's eyes widened. "How did you—"

Anne chuckled. "It was pretty easy to tell before the fire that you liked him. I figured that'd come around again sooner or later."

The man ducked his head. Anne cupped his cheek in her hand, smiling softly at him as their eyes met.

"I'm always here for you, you know?" she murmured. He nodded mutely and she smiled, running a slender finger over his lips. "I'm happy for you. But if you ever need me to kick his—"

"I'm, uh, fairly certain that won't be necessary," Phillip mumbled, chuckling. Anne kissed his cheek.

"Where's Barnum now?" she wondered.

"Last I saw, he was—"

He was interrupted by a loud _crash_ outside.

 


	32. 30

Phillip raced outside and gawked at the sight in front of them. Protestors had swarmed onto the circus grounds. One of them - a big, burly man - sneered down at a figure lying on their back in the grass. Next to them, a ticket booth was in shambles.

"Barnum!" Phillip shouted. He hurried toward the scene and knelt down, sneering at the man who stood over them. "I'll report you to the authorities!" he threatened.

Barnum groaned and sat up. There were no visible injuries, but he gripped his head. Phillip wrapped an arm around him and gingerly pressed against a bump already beginning to form. The ringmaster winced.

"What're you going to do about it, Carlyle?" the attacker sneered. "Run home to mommy and daddy? It's not exactly a secret you've been..."

The rest of his words faded into oblivion as Phillip didn't pay him the slightest bit of attention. He was murmuring to Barnum, asking him if anything else hurt. The ringmaster insisted he was fine, but the younger man didn't dare trust his word.

When he looked up, the attacker was gone. He cursed under his breath.

"C'mon," he murmured, helping Barnum to his feet, "let's get you inside."

 


	33. 31

Phillip wrapped up chunks of ice in a piece of cloth and insisted Barnum used it for his head.

Barnum protested, rolled his eyes, but in the end he found himself in a chair, ice to the bump on his head, Phillip flashing a satisfied smirk. Before they could get to talking, though, Lettie poked her head into the room.

"Are we still on for tonight?"

"Of course. The show must go on."

"But, Barnum, the protestors—"

"Why should we satisfy them by canceling the show? Over a little bump? That's exactly what they want."

With a huff, Lettie disappeared from view. After she'd gone, Phillip pulled up an extra chair and sat across from the ringmaster. They sat knee to knee.

"Why're ya starting at me like that?" Barnum grinned.

"Like what?"

The lopsided grin on Barnum's lips only grew. "Like you want to—"

The man was interrupted when Phillip stood. He rested his hands on the ringmaster's thighs and leaned down to kiss him. Using the hand that didn't hold melting ice to the bump, Barnum reached up and pulled Phillip closer.

Phillip nuzzled Barnum's neck when they pulled away. "He hurt you," he murmured, looking up into Barnum's eyes.

The smile faded until a sad, broken trace was all that was left. He lowered the melting pack of ice. "Where have I heard that before?"

Phillip's sigh was long and heavy as he lowered himself back into his chair and stared down at his hands. "It's...different with my father, Barnum."

"How so? I'm curious to hear how you justify abuse, 'Lip."

Phillip flinched.

"My father...raised me. He can do what he wants." A lump rose in his throat. "You - well, you were attacked by a random man who has no connection to you."

"Phillip..." Barnum grasped the younger man's hands, his own slightly wettened from the ice.

"A blood relation gives no man an excuse to hurt another."

"Phin—"

"It's okay to let people go," Barnum murmured. He squeezed Phillip's hands tight in his. "Especially when their 'love' does more harm to you than good."

 


	34. 32

After the show, Barnum pulled Phillip to the side.

"See?" he grinned. "I told you nothing would go wrong."

Phillip scoffed, but a moment later his expression softened. As Barnum took his hat off, he reached up to lay a hand on the ringmaster's cheek. "How's your head?" he murmured.

"Don't you worry about me." The ringmaster's grin widened, but something flashed in his eyes and Phillip tilted his head to the side. "There was...something I'd like to ask you, Phillip."

"Hmm?"

"Well, I—" Barnum glanced around. They were out of view of the exiting audience and the circus acts had already begun a clean-up. "I was wondering, 'Lip, if you'd like to...come over for the evening."

Phillip pulled back, his lips parting in surprise. Something hot coiled in his stomach.

Upon seeing his expression, Barnum flushed. "Not like that! I, er...well, your apartment is so small, and I don't..." Barnum trailed off, embarrassed, his cheeks tainted pink. He cleared his threat. "It's - well, I don't very much like the idea of you alone in that apartment, 'Lip."

"Barnum—"

"We'll set you up in the guest bedroom, just as before, and I'm sure the girls would love to have you over—"

Phillip pressed a finger to Barnum's lips. Barnum froze, his lips puckered, his eyes flicking to the young man standing before him.

Phillip's smile was small, sweet. "I would love to, Barnum. But Charity—?"

"As long as you and I stay apart," Barnum breathed. "She...well, as I said, she's dealing, but we haven't told the girls yet—"

"That's all right. I understand." Phillip reached up, wrapped his arms around Barnum's neck. "I would love to stay with you, Phineas."

Barnum smiled. Phillip reached up and tangled his fingers in Barnum's wavy hair as the older man met his lips in a soft kiss.

Behind them, some feet away, a shadow moved in the corner.

 


	35. 33

Just as before, Charity greeted them at the door when the men came home.

"Phillip." Her smile was full, but the corner of her lip twitched a little. "It's nice to see you when you're not stumbling around."

Phillip flushed, but he cleared his throat and stuck out his hand. "It's nice to see you too, Charity."

Her grip on his was tight and she let his hand fall after just a moment. Before much else could be said, the sound of bare feet pattered on the stairs.

"Phillip!"

Two little girls in nightgowns flung themselves toward the man at once. Phillip laughed, arms encircling them, pulling them close.

"How are my little ladies doing?" he asked, ruffling Helen's hair.

"Can you read us a bedtime story, Mr. Phillip?" Helen asked.

"Helen—" Charity started.

"Well, of course I can."

"Phillip, you don't have—"

"It's quite all right, Charity. Really. Now...what story will I be reading you girls?"

Caroline giggled as she held up a book she'd been holding behind her back. "It's about a magical dancer!"

Phillip chuckled. "Magical dancers it is, then. Care to escort me upstairs?"

The girls squealed and each grabbed the man by a hand as they pulled him away. Once they'd vanished from sight, Charity turned to Barnum, who was quick to launch into an explanation.

"I only brought him here because I don't want him alone in that apartment. You should have seen it."

"Phin—"

"We can set him up in the guest bedroom, as I've already told him. I will not be joining him, I promise. I wouldn't do such a thing with—" Barnum paused, eyes widening, realizing he'd backed himself into a corner.

"With?" his wife pressed.

"With you or the girls in the house," he finished in a mumble.

"But," she crossed her arms, "you would alone."

"Charity, I—"

Tears brimmed at Charity's eyes, but she blinked them away. "I am trying to be strong because I love you, Phineas, and I appreciate you opening up to me, but I was not expecting you to bring Phillip here. You must understand how hard it is for me, and to keep it from the girls—"

"Of course," Barnum choked. He stepped forward and cupped her face in his hands. "I know, I know, and I'm sorry, but I am telling the truth. I only brought him here because his parents have thrown him into such poor conditions and...well, he gave up most of his fortune to rebuild the circus."

"I understand." Charity placed her hands over Barnum's, interlacing their fingers as she stepped back. "You've always had a heart three times bigger than that of the average person," she sighed.

Barnum's lips curled up in a small smile.

"Now, about sleeping arrangements - do you expect to sleep in bed with me, Phineas?" She dropped their hands.

Barnum bowed his head. "Whatever you prefer, darling," he mumbled. He lifted his eyes to meet hers. "You've already done so much, I couldn't ask for anything else."

Charity nodded. She closed her eyes and took a breath. "You will sleep in the other guest bedroom. Maybe someday we can become normal again, but I can't—"

"You don't have to explain," Barnum sighed. "I understand."

***

That night, the door to the room in which Phillip slept creaked open. Silent footsteps made their way to the bed and sank down. The bed protested with a slight creak and strong arms wrapped themselves around the sleeping man's slim waist.

Phillip startled awake with a gaspy snore, eyes bleary with sleep as he looked over his shoulder. "Barnum?" he whispered.

The older man pressed his lips to the back of Phillip's neck and Phillip sighed. Entwining their legs, Barnum soon settled down into a slumber, arms tightening around the younger man.

Phillip sighed again as he settled back into sleep, holding one of Barnum's hands close to his chest.

 


	36. 34

"Phineas! What are you doing?! Get up."

Barnum was jolted awake by a harsh tug at his arm and grunted, opening bleary eyes. Charity's face, flushed red, eyes filled with tears, stared back at him.

"Char? What—"

"What have you _done_?" she cried.

"What are you talking about?" Barnum sat up, noticing the bed empty beside him. "Where's Phillip?"

Charity ignored him. She spun around and marched toward the bedroom door. Barnum got up and out of bed to follow her, but halted sharply upon passing by the window.

Protestors.

Hundreds of them.

Surrounding his house.

Frowning, he opened the window. Their shouts drifted up from the streets.

_"Cocksucker!"_

(some indistinguishable shouts about "freaks," "leader," "circus")

_"He who lies with a man shall be damned straight to hell!"_

Feeling a little lightheaded, Barnum started to stumble back. But something out of the corner of his eye reeled him back in and he gaped downward, leaning so far out that he nearly fell out of the window himself.

There, at the front of the pack.

_Was that—?_

_It had to be._

The man who'd shoved Barnum at his show the day before.

 


	37. 35

Barnum turned away from the window, head spinning. He hurried out into the hall, where Charity was waiting. Down the hall, his daughters peered curiously out another window.

"Mommy, what are all those people doing?"

"Get away from there, Helen. You too, Caroline." Charity glared at Barnum as she motioned their daughters over.

"Char, where... where's Phillip?"

"Is he all you care about?" Charity hissed. "First you tell me you'd like to—" she drifted off as the girls came running, but Barnum flinched anyway, knowing exactly what she was about to say, "—and then I find you in that room..."

"We didn't—"

"After I specifically told you to sleep in the other spare." She gritted her teeth.

"We didn't do anything, darling, I swear."

"Does it matter? And don't you _dare_ call me that."

"What's wrong, Mommy?" Helen looked up at her, then over at her father.

Charity sighed. "Nothing. How about you and your sister go play with your dolls?"

"What about those people outside?" Caroline piped up.

"We'll get them taken care of," Charity promised. "Go on, now."

After the girls left, disappearing into Helen's room, Charity gritted her teeth and turned her back on her husband.

"It's like I don't even _know you_. I found you in his bed, Phineas, what do you expect me to think?"

"I wouldn't do that with the girls in the house—"

"Oh, but the second we leave you'd be all over him."

Barnum was silent. He swallowed a lump in his throat.

"I'm _trying_." Charity's voice broke, and her shoulders shook as she started to sob. Barnum approached her, slowly, and rested a hand on her shoulder, but she flinched away the second he made contact.

"I'm trying, I'm trying so hard to be supportive of your...decision...because I love you, Phin, and I love our girls, and I want their lives to be as normal as possible. But you can't keep doing this to me," she spat. "First it was Jenny, but now a...a man? A man, not just any man but Phillip, a man that I actually _respected_. And all...this outside." She motioned vaguely toward the window. "Phineas, really?"

"He kissed me," Barnum choked. "He kissed me in the fire, Charity, I told you, I...I thought you understood. It wasn't my fault. I...don't know how..." His eyes flicked to the window and flicked back.

_He didn't know, but he had an idea._

Charity's shoulders stiffened. She dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve as she turned to face her husband, who took an uncertain step back.

"He may have kissed you first,"

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"but you reciprocated."

 


	38. 36

Charity left.

Barnum stood in the hall, alone, staring at his wife's departing back as she walked down the hall.

"What are we to do about the protestors?" he asked.

No answer.

After she disappeared from sight, the ringmaster ran a shaking hand through his hair. His eyes flicked to Helen's closed bedroom door.

At least his daughters were still oblivious to all this.

(for now)

Phillip.

He had to find Phillip.

Barnum wandered down the long hallway, lost in his own home with no idea where to go.

Why were there so many doors?

God—

The room spun. He stopped. Grabbed onto the wall for support.

Phillip.

Where was Phillip? Phillip couldn't just disappear. His house wasn't that big, he had to find him—

His vision started to blur.

Barnum whimpered and brought a hand up to his eyes.

Why did his head hurt so bad?

Was this - what was happening?

He sunk to the floor. Pulled his legs up to his chin.

Deep breaths.

In.

Out.

Where was Phillip?

He had to find Phillip.

Barnum struggled to his feet.

Stumbled.

Fell.

"Daddy?"

He looked up, sweaty hair plastered to his forehead.

"Helen," he breathed.

His daughter stared at him. Tilted her head to the side.

"I'm Caroline, Daddy."

"Hel - Caroline, I think I—"

He brought his hands up to his face. They were shaking.

"Daddy, why are you crying?"

Crying? He reached up to touch his cheek.

Wet.

"Caroline, I—"

"Are you dying, Daddy?" Tears clipped her voice. Her lip started to tremble.

"Dying? No, Caroline, I - Daddy just needs help. Can you help me?"

She took a hesitant step forward.

"Can you find Phillip for me?"

She tilted her head to the side. Stared at him, her young face blurring in his vision.

"Is he lost?"

"No, just - can you find him for me? Please?"

"Yes, Daddy."

Barnum breathed deep. "That's a good girl."

Caroline turned to leave. She didn't get very far, though.

Somebody screamed. Then again. Again.

Phillip.

Barnum bolted upwards. Caroline spun around, hair whipping in her face, young eyes wide and bewildered as her father found his strength.

"Do you want me to come with you, Daddy?"

"Stay there!"

He stumbled like a drunk man down the hall.

Following the screams.

Following Phillip.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh the summary of this fic should be "in which Barnum tries to bottle up his feelings until he crumbles"
> 
> was not expecting Barnum to have a full-scale panic attack, but there ya go


	39. 37

"Phillip?" Barnum called, breathing heavy, heart pounding a thousand beats a second, "Phillip, where are you?"

He followed the voice to the other guest bedroom. The one that he had been asked to sleep in before—

_(disrespecting your wife)_

"Phillip!" He burst through the door. Phillip stood, hands clasped over his mouth, looking out the window. "Are you all right?!"

"You said!" Phillip cried, whirling around and pointing at Barnum. He shook all over, eyes filled with blue fire. "You said they wouldn't find out!"

"Phillip, you need to calm—" Despite his own anxiety,

_(you had a panic breakdown)_

Barnum tried to keep his own voice low, controlled.

"I'm going to _die_!" Phillip's voice cracked. Fresh tears flooded his eyes and a high, keening wail escaped his lips. "Don't you understand? They're going to _kill me_. He's going to—"

He sobbed and pressed shaking hands up to his face. "I don't want to die," he moaned.

Barnum's head throbbed. He rubbed his temples and tried to make sense of the situation. "You're not going to _die_ , Phillip, are you - who are you talking about?"

Phillip's shaking lips parted, but all that came out was another piercing wail.

Downstairs, somebody pounded on the front door.

 


	40. 38

"M-My parents," Phillip stammered, backing away from the window with his hands held up defensively. "They're gonna—they're g-gonna—"

Barnum's eyes flashed with alarm. He'd fucked up, he knew he fucked up _bad_ , but if there was one thing he could do, it was attempt to keep Phillip safe. He sprinted down the hall and leaned over the stair railing.

 _"Don't open that door!"_ he screamed, praying Charity and the girls would hear.

When he went back into the bedroom, Phillip was on the floor shivering, shaking, his hands pressed up to his face. Barnum got on the floor beside him and wrapped his arms around the frightened man.

"I need you to hide," he murmured urgently. "Can you do that for me? Can you fit under the bed?"

"I - I can try."

Barnum nodded. "That's a good boy," he murmured, stroking Phillip's hair, trying to be as soothing as he could be under the circumstances. Phillip was shaking like a leaf, but he managed to crawl toward the bed.

Mr. Carlyle pounded on the door. So loud, Barnum could practically hear the door rattle on its hinges from downstairs.

Phillip yelped and bolted upwards, banging his head on the underside of the bed. A fresh wave of whimpers filled the air.

"It's all right," Barnum murmured. He pulled the younger man up and kissed him soft. He kissed him as if it would be the last time they'd ever make contact. Then he kissed the wet tears on the younger man's cheeks.

_"PHILLIP!"_

Barnum grabbed the man before he could cry again and gently pushed him under the bed. Rising to his knees, he grabbed a small pillow from off the bed and gave it to him.

"It'll be okay," he whispered. Phillip stared at him with horrified flooded eyes. "Be as quiet as you can, okay?"

Phillip nodded. He clutched the pillow tight, digging his nails into the soft material.

"I'll come back for you," Barnum promised. "And when I do, your father - and all those others outside - will be gone."

The sound of glass shattering downstairs made Phillip gasp. Alarms were going off in Barnum's head, but he clutched the younger man's hands.

"Pr-Promise?" Phillip rasped.

"I promise."

Barnum let go of Phillip's hands. He rose.

Then he was gone.

 


	41. 39

Barnum stormed downstairs as Mr. Carlyle stormed into the house. They met at the landing and Barnum blocked off the stairway from the shorter, skinnier man.

He didn't know where Charity and the girls were. Somewhere safe and hiding, he prayed.

"Where is my son?" Mr. Carlyle seethed. He tried to peer over Barnum's shoulder, up the stairway.

"I believe that is none of your concern," Barnum spoke evenly enough. He looked the man dead in the eye.

Mr. Carlyle reddened. Beside him, his wife quivered on his arm. "I want to see my son! I know he's here somewhere!"

"Your _son_ is a grown man. He may see you if he pleases, but there is nothing you can do about it if he doesn't."

"You have _no right_ to hide him from me!" Mr. Carlyle screamed. "I'll have you arrested for - for—"

"For what, Mr. Carlyle?"

"For...indecent acts! For homosexuality! For dragging my son down into your third-class filth!"

Barnum scoffed. He gestured around his mansion with his arms.

"Look around, sir. Does this look like third-class to you?"

Mr. Carlyle opened his mouth, but didn't say anything. His silent wife buried her face in his shoulder.

"There is nothing connecting me to having homosexual relations with your son in any way, Mr. Carlyle."

"Lies! That crowd outside—"

"Was formed by people who have hated my show since the beginning. They are people who would stoop to the lowest levels - including rumors of homosexual affairs, mind you - in order to run my show to the ground." Barnum scoffed again and glanced out the window. "By the looks of that crowd, I'd say quite a few have fallen for their lies. But you, sir, you're not that gullible, are you? You have no business being here."

"I _demand_ to see my son—"

"You have no business being here," Barnum repeated, spitting the words between his teeth, "and if you don't leave now, I'll notify the authorities and have you arrested for trespassing on my 'third-class property.' Along with all those other fools outside."

"You wouldn't."

"Do I look like I'm joking, Mr. Carlyle?" Barnum quirked an eyebrow.

Mr. Carlyle glowered at him. He shot one final look upstairs before turning away, mumbling under his breath. Next to him, his wife wept quietly to herself.

Barnum took a deep breath. After Mr. Carlyle left, he started down the hall - only stopping when he heard a door creak open. Charity poked her head out.

"Is everything all right? Where are you going?" she asked.

"It's all right. Mr. Carlyle is gone now."

"Where are you going?" she repeated. One of his daughters peeked through the cracked door, but she gently pushed her back.

"My office. I've got a call to make."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Telephones were invented in 1876 and since the general consensus is that this film takes place post-Civil War, around the 1870s or so, anyway, I thought I could squeak by with just a little bit of history-bending. :)
> 
> ALSO: I have a NEW BARLYLE FIC! It's cowritten with one of my fandom friends, melloneddy, and it's called Hang Up Your Coat. Check it out on my profile!


	42. 40

After the phone call, after everything had finally started to calm down a little and the protestors were led off the premises, Barnum went to check on Phillip.

The door to the guest bedroom opened without so much as a creak. "Phillip?" Barnum murmured.

Phillip _screamed_.

"Phillip!" Barnum dropped to his hands and knees and peered underneath the bed. "It's only me. Only me. I'm here, 'Lip."

Phillip shook all over as he gazed at Barnum with horror-filled eyes. "I-Is he—"

"He's gone now. The people outside are gone too. It's all right, you can come out."

Phillip quivered as he crawled out from underneath the bed. He sat on his knees and Barnum touched him ever-so-slightly before enveloping the younger man in his arms and pulling him to his chest. The younger man continued to shake.

"It's all right," Barnum repeated, stroking Phillip's hair, his cheeks, "I'm here. You're safe."

"Phineas."

Barnum looked up. His wife and daughters stood at the doorway. Caroline clung to Charity's hand, watching her father comfort Phillip with wide eyes, and Helen sucked on her thumb - something she hadn't done since she was two or three.

"I think we need to talk."

 


	43. 41

"You can't do that!"

"I can, and I will."

"But your parents—"

"—are perfectly capable of watching their own grandchildren."

Barnum ground his teeth together and paced across the floor of his study. Charity stood poised, hands clasped in front of her and head held high, watching as her husband brought his hands up to his hair.

"I just got them back, Charity," he groaned. "You just came back and we just got the house back. Don't ruin it over some little—"

"Little _what_ , Barnum? You think protestors swarming our home is a _little_ manner? Me, having to hide in a room with the girls because your _lover's_ ," she spat the word, venom on her tongue, "parents barged in here with no regard for the people living in this home?"

"I handled that. It's under control."

Charity took a deep breath and straightened her back. She lifted her chin at her husband. "Caroline tells me you had a breakdown."

Barnum froze.

Completely. Froze.

His eyes flicked to his wife, but he himself did not move. "She what?"

"That little stunt you pulled in the hallway upstairs? Breaking down in front of our daughter? Making her little mind believe you were going to _die_?"

Tears formed in Charity's eyes.

"If you can't even handle yourself, Phineas, how can I expect you to handle the children?"

Barnum said nothing. His hands twitched in front of him.

"Father is old-fashioned, as we both know, and has not installed a telephone in his home. Therefore, I'll be leaving to speak with them about the arrangements this evening."

"Don't do this," Barnum murmured. "Please - don't take my girls away from me again."

He couldn't look at her.

"If everything goes as planned, they should be here to pick up the girls in the morning. Perhaps then we can speak to one another as civilized adults."

Charity turned to leave.

"Char," Barnum croaked.

She turned around. The ringmaster's eyes lit with hope - but the light quickly diminished as his wife spoke one final, damning sentence.

"I want him gone before I return."

 


	44. 42

Barnum wandered, empty-headed, into his daughters' playroom. His daughters sat on the floor, playing with little wooden horses.

"Daddy!" Helen jumped up and wrapped her little arms around his waist. "Did you come to play with us, Daddy?"

"I - yes. Yes, I did."

Barnum sat on the floor with his girls. Helen took a horse and pranced it happily across the floor, making little neighing noises.

Caroline was silent.

Barnum half-heartedly played horses with Helen, but he stared at the wall. Every time he tried looking at one of his girls, tears formed in his eyes and he was forced to blink them away.

"Daddy?"

Barnum shook his head and blinked. Helen stared at him and poked her lower lip out into a pout.

"She's been calling you for two minutes," Caroline murmured.

"I'm sorry. Yes, sweetheart?"

"Why aren't you pla—?"

"Phineas."

Barnum turned around at the sound of Phillip's voice. He stood and strode quickly to the younger man.

"Phillip, I—"

"Daddy?"

Helen stared up at her father and held up one of her little wooden horses. His throat constricted, closed up. He couldn't say a word.

"C'mon." Caroline stood and took her sister by the hand.

"Where are we going?" Helen asked.

"Our rooms." Caroline looked back at her father and the hurt in those young eyes sent a stabbing pain straight through Barnum's gut. "Daddy wants to be with Phillip more than he wants to play with us."

Tears rolled down Barnum's cheeks as his girls left the room. He turned toward Phillip, who stared down at the floor.

"Phineas, I - I heard what Charity said."

"Phil—"

"I've overstayed my welcome and for that I apologize." Phillip's eyes shined with tears. "I just wanted to let you know that I'll be leaving now and, again - I'm sorry. Truly."

Phillip turned to leave. Barnum grabbed his arm.

"Phil, don't—"

"I'm sorry." Phillip tugged his arm away. Not viciously. Rather - resigned. "I promise to leave you and your family alone from now on. It was not my place to intrude."

Barnum's lips parted in protest as he watched Phillip, his _partner_ , leave the room. He ached to call out to Phillip, to tell him to stay, _please stay_.

No words came out.

Phineas Taylor Barnum was alone.

 


	45. 43

When Barnum knocked on Caroline's bedroom door, he didn't expect an answer back. He stood out in the hall, shoulders slumped and head bowed, at a door that didn't open.

"Caroline? I'm sorry, baby girl, I—"

The doorknob twisted and the door slowly opened, revealing two small, untrusting faces peering out at him - but the door didn't open all the way. Helen's cheeks were tear-stained and she'd popped her thumb in her mouth again.

"Why aren't you with Phillip?" Caroline asked. Barnum winced. She spoke with an eerie wiseness beyond her years that reminded Barnum too much of her mother.

"I'm sorry, girls, truly I am and I know I owe you both an explanation. Please, may I come in?"

The girls looked at each other. Helen nodded just slightly, thumb still in her mouth, and Caroline sighed. The door opened wider.

Caroline, like a little mini Charity, crossed her arms over her chest. Eyes that reflected Charity's own stared up at her father. "You have ten minutes."

"You sound just like your mother." Barnum choked out a chuckle.

Caroline didn't laugh.

Barnum heaved a sigh and sat on Caroline's bed. Helen - forgetting, perhaps, that she was supposed to be upset with her father - finally dropped her thumb from her mouth and scrambled into Barnum's lap. Caroline's baby face scrunched up in a frown as she scowled at her sister.

"I miss you, Daddy," Helen whined, wrapping her arms around Barnum in a hug.

"I haven't gone anywhere," Barnum mumbled.

"You changed since you started loving Mr. Phillip more than us."

Barnum cringed. "Oh, sweetheart," he croaked. "Phillip could never replace you or your sister. I love you both so, so much."

"But you love Mr. Phillip too," Caroline mumbled.

"I—"

"You didn't say no."

"Do you love Mr. Phillip like you love Mommy?" Helen asked, looking up at him. Then her face scrunched up and fresh tears shined in her eyes. "You - you do love Mommy, don't you?"

"Of course I love Mommy," Barnum whispered. "There are not enough words in the English language to describe how much I love your mommy."

"Are there 'nough to 'scribe how much you love Mr. Phillip?" Helen asked.

Barnum sighed and closed his eyes as he stroked his daughter's hair. "I love Mr. Phillip," he whispered, "but, the thing is - I don't think he knows. Loving Phillip is a lot harder than loving your mommy."

"Why?" Helen asked. Caroline was still silent, but she moved closer and sat next to her father too. After a moment, she rested her head against his arm.

"People don't understand why a man can love a person the same as them. A lot of people don't like it. And, well, some people go as far as hurting others because they disapprove."

"Is that why all those people were outside?" Caroline murmured. "Because they don't like that you love Mr. Phillip?"

Barnum simply nodded.

"Can't we all be together?" Helen asked. "Us and you and Mommy and Mr. Phillip?"

Barnum chuckled and kissed her head. "I'm afraid it's not that simple, sweetheart."

"Are you going to leave us?" Caroline whispered. Her lower lip shook.

"Never!" Barnum proclaimed a little loudly, startling both his daughters. He settled down. "Never, ever will I leave you, Caroline. I'll be here when you grow up and become the world's most famous ballerina,"

Caroline blushed.

"and when you first get courted by a boy—"

"Ewww!" Caroline squealed. "Daddy, no!"

Barnum laughed. Then, when the laughter faded, he pulled both his girls close and kissed the top of their heads.

"I'll always be here for you," he murmured, closing his eyes. "You're my girls. And whether I love Mommy or Mr. Phillip - nothing will ever change that."

 


	46. 44

That night, after he put the girls to bed, Barnum slumped down on the couch in the living room.

Charity still wasn't back.

The ringmaster sighed and closed his eyes. The rest of the day had been spent playing with his girls, participating in whatever their little hearts desired. They were all hugs and giggles by the time he'd put them to bed, blinking back tears as he kissed their little cheeks.

He had no idea when he'd be able to do that again.

Tears rolled down Barnum's face as he tilted his head back, eyes still closed. He breathed deep, about half asleep when he heard the slightest creak of footsteps on the stairs.

"Daddy?"

The man's eyes flew open and flicked over to the young girl that approached him, dressed in her sleeping gown with a teddy bear clutched to her chest. He hurriedly wiped the tears away.

"What are you doing down here? Shouldn't you be sleeping?" Barnum lifted an eyebrow and flashed the lopsided smile that usually made his daughters laugh.

Caroline did not laugh.

"I don't wanna go away, Daddy." The girl climbed onto the couch and laid her head against her father's arm. Concerned, Barnum gently maneuvered his arm and wrapped it around his daughter.

"Go away?" He feigned confusion. "Why wo—"

"Mommy told me. Helen doesn't know, but she told me after I...told her. About the hallway." Caroline's eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry, Daddy."

"It's all right, sweetheart, you didn't—"

"I don't wanna go away." Acting like she was suddenly half her age, tears spilled over on Caroline's cheeks and she crawled into her father's lap. "Don't wanna leave you, Daddy, can't you talk to Mommy?" her voice broke. "Please?"

"It's only for a little while, sweetheart," Barnum whispered. "You love Grandma and Grandpa, don't you?"

"I don't want you to die," the girl wept.

Barnum was startled. "Die? Caroline, I'm not going to—"

"The hallway," she wailed. "You were in the hallway and you couldn't get up, Daddy, I th-thought—" She hiccuped. Snot ran down the space between her nose and upper lip. "I d-don't want you to be gone when I come back, Daddy, please don't be—"

"Shh, shh." Barnum rocked the girl like she was a toddler again. "I'm right here, Caroline, sweetheart, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." He kissed her tangled hair. "I'll be right here when you come back, all right? I pro—"

"Phineas?"

Barnum looked up. Charity stood in the doorway, hair done up, sharply observing the scene between her husband and sobbing daughter.

"Mommy!" Caroline flung up from Barnum's lap and ran to her mother. She clung at Charity's skirt. "Please don't make us go away, Mommy," the girl wailed miserably. "I wanna stay with Daddy, please."

Barnum looked helplessly up at his wife.

"Caroline..." Charity stepped back. "You know this is for the best."

"I don't wanna go."

"You are to stay with your grandparents," Charity snapped, "and that's final. Now, go to your room. I've got some things to discuss with your father."

"But, Mommy—!"

"Now, Caroline!"

The girl ran, sobbing, to her room. Barnum stared after her, heart twisting in his chest.

"Charity, perhaps you were a bit harsh with—"

"Is he gone?"

Barnum nodded. "Left shortly after you did," he whispered. "I spent the day with the girls."

"Well, I'm glad to see you're finally getting some sense back, Phineas. See? They're not even gone yet and you're already acting more like a grown-up."

"She's really upset, Charity. I think—"

"You know that's because of you, don't you? Had you not freaked her out in the hallway, she wouldn't be acting the way she is now."

Barnum flinched.

"I'm sorry," he moaned. "For everything."

Charity nodded. "There is something else, Phineas."

Barnum swallowed. He waited in silence.

"I spoke with Father—"

"Like I'll listen to anything that man says?"

"—while I did not give him the full details of your relationship with Phillip, I did hint at some..." she paused, as if debating over the right word, "corrupting behavior going on 'behind the scenes' of your show."

"And?" Barnum spat.

"He and I both believe it would be best if you...fired Mr. Carlyle."

 


	47. 45

Barnum stared at his wife, slack-jawed.

"I'm not firing him," he hissed between his teeth.

Charity tilted her head back. Fire blazed in her eyes and her jaw was set.

"It's either him or me."

 


	48. 46

Barnum laid on his back in bed, tears welling in his eyes.

_"Phillip is the soul of the circus," he'd spat. "Without him, there's nothing. I won't be able to afford the land, the equipment, the—"_

_Something flashed in Charity's eyes. Something - regret? She scowled at him and the words she hissed sounded nothing like Charity at all._

_"You made do without him once. You can do so again. Unless - I have to explain to the girls why their father chose another man over us?"_

_She didn't know of the conversation he had with their girls. He ached to tell her, but he had a feeling that would only make things worse._

_"You have until tomorrow to make up your mind," she snapped._

The ringmaster let out a sob and rolled onto his side. The other side of the bed in the guest bedroom was cold and empty.

No Phillip.

No Charity.

Nobody.

He wept silently into the pillow until he heard the door open with a slight click. Gasping, he sat up and squinted in the darkness.

A little face peered tearfully back at him, clutching a teddy bear.

Caroline pattered over to the bed in her bare feet and just managed to hop onto the bed herself. Soft whimpers escaped her lips as she crawled up by her father and rested her head by his shoulder.

Wiping the tears away from his own eyes, Barnum murmured, "it's all right, baby girl."

"Don't go, Daddy," she murmured sleepily.

Barnum tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and pulled the blanket up to cover the girl's small, skinny shoulders. He laid his head back down with the girl's head on his arm and her soft breaths in his ear.

Caroline fell asleep within minutes. Barnum's arm began to tingle with her weight lying on top of it, but he didn't dare move. Instead, he closed his eyes and heaved a sigh.

He knew the answer he would give Charity in the morning.

 


	49. 47

The kitchen table the next morning was eerily quiet. Barnum and the girls picked at their food. Charity didn't even sit at the table.

Finally, after several minutes of silence, Charity spoke. "Caroline, why don't you and your sister go pack your bags? Grandma and Grandpa will be here in a few hours."

"I don't wanna go," Caroline whined. She turned her tearful eyes to Barnum. "Daddy, please—"

"Caroline," Charity snapped.

"We're leaving?" Helen asked.

"Just for a little while. Mommy and Daddy have some grown-up matters to discuss."

"Can I take my dolls?"

"A couple."

Helen beamed and, breakfast forgotten, ran from the table. Charity turned narrowed eyes onto Caroline who, weeping pitifully, went along with her sister.

Once the girls were gone, Barnum sighed. "Charity, I thought about what you said last night and I—"

Ignoring him, Charity went to the countertop and picked something up. She slammed the newspaper on the table in front of her husband. The front page glared up at him.

**_Phillip Carlyle, Famed Playwright-Turned-Circus-Boy, Attacked at Home; Parents Suspected of Attempted Foul Play_ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone gets the tv reference in this I will love you forever


	50. 48

Eyes wide, horrified, Barnum turns to Charity. The newspaper shakes in his hands and his eyes glisten with tears.

All at once, his senses seem to dull. His vision tunnels until it's focused on Charity. Charity, Charity.

Charity purses her lips together. She nods, once.

The force of Barnum's departure knocks over the kitchen chair as he runs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I GOT TGS ON DVD AND THE SOUNDTRACK ON VINYL AND KEALA FUCKING SETTLE RETWEETED ME DO YOU HEAR ME S C R E A M I N G


	51. 49

"You have a visitor, Mr. Carlyle."

Phillip had been fading in and out of consciousness since arriving at the hospital and the doctor blurred in his vision. Massive blood loss, they said. He remembered that much. They said he was lucky that someone in one of the neighboring apartments had heard his screams.

"Phillip?"

The man gasped. He hadn't even realized the doctor had gone away and another man stood in his place.

Barnum.

 _Phin_.

He stood in the doorway, unsure, tears flooding his eyes and rolling down his cheeks, and he wrung his hands nervously in front of him.

"Phin," Phillip wheezed. A hot flash of pain flared somewhere - he couldn't pinpoint it, but it _burned_ \- and he whined in pain. Suddenly, hands were on his face and something - a nose? yes. - brushed against his.

"I'm here, I'm here. Oh God, _Phillip_."

Barnum stepped away and truly took in the sight of the younger man in the hospital bed. His abdomen had been wrapped up tightly - stabbed, they said, fucking _stabbed_ \- and scratches marched up and down his arms. From trying to fight off the attack, he assumed. One of Phillip's eyes was swollen almost totally shut and the other watered terribly. He kept blinking.

"Oh, sweetheart," Barnum murmured. Phillip flinched and fresh tears welled in his eyes. He shrank away from the ringmaster.

"D-Don't," he cried. He stomach twisted, recoiling in the pain, and he wanted to throw up. He wanted to tear it out, tear the fire _out of his body—_

"It's me. It's Phineas. Oh, darling, can you see me?" A finger brushed underneath his swollen eye.

"F-Father," Phillip gasped out. He shook terribly. "H-He's coming, Ph-Phin, he's _coming_."

"I'm sorry." Barnum gently lifted Phillip's hand - he flinched again, but didn't pull away - and pressed his lips to the knuckles. Tears fell from his cheeks, wettening Phillip's hand. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"Father's g-gonna—"

Barnum pressed his forehead to Phillip's hand. "He's not here," he whispered. "You're safe. Your mother and father are going to go away for a long time."

"Away?" Phillip whispered, like a child afraid of his own nightmares.

"Yes, Phillip. Away. Does that sound good?" Barnum looked up.

Eyes wide, slightly hazy, Phillip nodded. " _Away_."

"I'll bet it does." The ringmaster's voice broke and his shoulders shook. "You're safe now, Phillip. I'm so sorry for not keeping you safe sooner."

Unseeing, Phillip gazed ahead. The world blurred around him once more.

"Phillip? Darling?"

Phillip laid back.

 _Safe_.

He slowly faded away.

 


	52. 50

He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he woke again. The room was dark and his body rattled with a fresh wave of pain that brought tears to his eyes. Any sort of morphine the doctors had given him earlier had worn away and he had to resist the urge to scream as _the fire in his abdomen continued to spre—_

A large hand covered his own and he gasped. Watery eyes - still fighting for vision, and now the swollen one was starting to throb - peered upwards. The face was fuzzy and blurred together as it looked down at him, but those eyes - wide honey-colored and lined with sorrow - were recognizable no matter how limited his sight was.

"P.T.," Phillip whispered.

"Phillip," Barnum choked. His hands moved, caressing Phillip's face, stroking his hair, "oh, my darling Phillip—" he broke off with a sob.

"Phin? What's wrong?" Phillip rasped. He coughed, once, and screamed out at the pain that rattled his abdomen. Barnum's lips were immediately on his, shushing him, though only for a moment. Phillip whimpered, tasting the salt from Barnum's tears as he pulled away.

"You have to fight for me, all right?" Barnum asked - no, begged. It was the most vulnerable Phillip had ever seen him and his head spun. " _Please_ , 'Lip. Like the fire - you've got to be strong for me."

"Phin, what's wrong?" Phillip demanded. Another rattle of coughs shook him and he cried. Barnum's chest ached - he longed to make the pain go away and tell him it'd be all right, but there was no guaranteeing that. And, after the last time—

"Internal bleeding," he whispered. "They missed it the first time - performed a transfusion - oh, Phillip."

"Wh-What?"

"You're safe. Shhh. You're safe." Barnum repeated the phrase like a mantra. Behind them, the door was closed. He longed to lie with Phillip, like that night back at home, but, knowing he couldn't, knelt on the floor and rested his head against the hospital bed. Phillip's hands were ice in his.

"Ph-Phin...hurts..."

Outside, afternoon began to turn to evening. Barnum's time with Phillip was running out - he would be expected home soon, if he wasn't already - but he didn't move. Phillip clung to him.

"They almost got you," Barnum murmured. He ran his fingers up and down Phillip's arm. "But you're so strong, Phillip, so brave - you've got to keep fighting. For me, and for the c-circus." Barnum shuddered and closed his eyes. Tears wettened his eyelashes.

"Phin," Phillip whispered. He could see a little clearer - staying awake a little longer helped with that - and reached out to touch Barnum's face. Barnum's fingers closed over Phillip's as he opened his eyes and peered at the man's pale, scraped up face.

"You're going to keep fighting, Phillip Carlyle, do you hear me?"

"F-Fight."

"Good." Barnum's voice shook, but he squeezed Phillip's hand and pressed on. "You're going to keep fighting, God damnit, because I lo—"

"Mr. Barnum?"

Phillip and Barnum looked up at the same time. A very confused doctor stood in the doorway and Barnum scrambled to his feet.

"He can't see me," Barnum explained, a little shaken, but his voice coming out evenly enough. "I spoke to him of his lady Anne and knelt so he could see me easier."

The doctor nodded absentmindedly and looked down at his clipboard in hand. "Mr. Barnum, there's a call for you."

"A call?"

"Your wife," the doctor explained, looking up. "Says her parents are on their way to pick up your children."

 


	53. 51

The doctor left, closing the door behind him. Once he'd gone, Barnum turned and bent over to press a feather-light kiss to Phillip's lips.

"I have to go," he murmured as he pulled away. Lacing their fingers together, he added, "you better not give up, do you hear me? Keep that heart beating."

"Phin," Phillip whispered. He ran his finger in circles over the back of Barnum's hand. "C-Careful." Tears filled his eyes. "Pr-Pr-Protes—"

"Don't worry about me." Barnum leaned down to kiss Phillip's brow one last time. "I'll be fine."

*

He arrived at home just as his girls were being led out of the house and to the carriage. Caroline held her grandmother's hand, but broke away as soon as she saw her father.

"Daddy!"

The girl flew as fast as her ballerina legs could carry her into her father's arms. He encased her into a hug.

"Oh, thank God I'm not too late," he muttered into the girl's hair. Her shoulders shook as she cried.

"Don't wanna go, Daddy," she begged again.

Barnum looked up into the face of his wife and her parents. Helen waved from the carriage - she was content with a couple dolls in her lap.

"It's time for her to go, Phineas," Mr. Hallet spat. Caroline cowered in her father's arms, but, when Barnum glanced at his wife, he saw but one emotion etched on her elegant features.

Pain.

"Father..." Charity closed her eyes as she took a deep breath and opened them again to make eye contact with Mr. Hallet. "Caroline is clearly uncomfortable with going. Perhaps it would be best if—"

"Certainly you're not letting a child dictate what you do and don't do, Charity."

"She just needs an extra day," Charity insisted. "Her father was gone all day today and—"

Mr. Hallet scoffed and glanced at Barnum out of the corner of his eye. "I wonder why."

Barnum had to bite his tongue to keep from saying something unnecessary. Charity was currently fighting for them to keep their daughter, who was still clinging to his legs, and he couldn't ruin that.

"Helen is all right to go," Charity pressed on. She looked at her younger daughter, "Aren't you, Helen?"

"Yes, Mommy."

"Caroline will join her tomorrow evening," she insisted.

Mr. Hallet sighed. His wife, who had been silently observing from the side of the carriage, finally stepped forward, and suddenly all eyes were on her.

"I will not call for bratty, misbehaved children in my home," she began. "If Caroline needs an extra day for her to clean up her act then I believe we should allow it, Daniel."

Her husband stiffened and clenched his jaw, but finally, after a moment, nodded his head.

"All right." His eyes flicked over to his oldest granddaughter. "Tomorrow evening, then."

Charity visibly relaxed. "Thank you, Father."

Barnum stood and watched with his wife and oldest daughter as Mr. and Mrs. Hallet climbed into the carriage. Helen waved and shouted goodbye and then the carriage was off. The sound of hootbeats filling the air, and the carriage turned around.

Making its way off the property, the carriage and its passengers passed a line of people.

They already held up signs and were making their way toward the Barnum mansion.

 


	54. 52

Charity watched the carriage disappear from sight before sighing and closing the door. Locking it, she turned to face her husband and remaining daughter.

"Can I sleep with Daddy tonight, Mommy? Please?"

Tears brimmed in Charity's eyes, but she nodded. "I suppose," she gave in.

Caroline brightened a little - the happiest Barnum had seen her in the past day or so - and tugged at her father's hand. "Come on!"

He chuckled and bent down to ruffle the girl's hair. "May I speak to your mother a moment, darling?"

A wave of uncertainty crossed Caroline's face and her young eyes immediately filled with worry. Barnum kissed her forehead.

"It'll only take a moment, I promise."

"...Okay, Daddy."

He smiled. "That's a good girl. How about you go pick out a bedtime story?"

Caroline pondered over the proposal for only a moment before nodding and running off. Once she disappeared from sight, Barnum turned to his wife.

"Thank you," he murmured. "I know this is only the beginning for us, but I - Charity?"

She stared out the window. Barnum followed her gaze and clenched his jaw. A ball of fury twisted in his gut.

Protestors were surrounding the gate.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> s o I got a top hat a few days ago and IF I manage to take any decent photos (unlikely) I will attempt to model it on Twitter and Tumblr and the Barlyle Discord tomorrow~


	55. 53

"Lock the doors," Barnum hissed. Spinning around on his heels, he commanded, "lock the doors, the windows! I'm going to see if I can get the police on the line again..."

His words trailed off as he sprinted for his office. Charity hurried as fast as she could from one window to the next, shutting them, locking them. The doors were already locked - thank goodness - but she double-checked them. Triple-checked them.

"Get them here as fast as you can!" Barnum demanded on the phone before slamming it down. Rubbing his face, he could feel the anxiety build in the pit of his stomach, but said nothing of it as he hurried to Charity.

From outside, the crowd of protestors began to chant louder and louder and louder. "Hang the homo! Hang the homo! Hang the homo!"

"Phin," Charity whispered, tears filling her eyes. He enveloped her in his arms and pulled her closer, eyeing the front door from over her shoulder.

"It's all right," he murmured. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to block the chanting from outside. "Help's on the w—"

Upstairs, Caroline screamed.

 


	56. 54

" _CAROLINE!_ "

Barnum thundered upstairs with Charity right at his heels. They burst into the bedroom - the guest bedroom Barnum had been using - and stopped short.

Caroline was huddled in the corner, crying, her knees up to her chest. The window was shattered and broken bits of glass littered the floor.

In the center of the mess was a rock. A very big, heavy rock - with a note attached.

Charity went to shush the crying child while Barnum took a hesitant step forward and picked up the weapon. It laid heavy in his hand. A nail pierced the note to the rock and Barnum's lips trembled as he murmured the words to himself.

"Play with the devil, you will be burned," he muttered.

Charity overheard. Still rocking Caroline, she asked, "What does that mean?"

"I - I don't—"

Barnum looked up. The wall in front of him blurred and he used his free hand to rub at his eyes.

"Phineas?"

The rock thudded to the floor as Barnum's legs crumbled.

He struck his head on the way down and the world around him slowly faded to black.

 


	57. 55

"Phin? Phineas, darling..."

Barnum felt something cool and wet on his forehead as he came to. He groaned as he brought his hand up to his forehead, flinching as he pressed his fingers against an angry red bump.

"Are you all right?" Charity's arms were around his back and he realized that it was Caroline pressing the rag to his head.

"Where - protestors—"

"They're gone. The authorities came and took them all away. Said they'll figure out the broken window in the morning - oh, Phineas."

Charity laid her head on her husband's shoulder and he wrapped an arm around her to pull her close. Looking up, he realized that his daughter's face was red, her eyes watery.

"C'mere," he murmured, exhaustion washing over him like an ocean's waves.

Caroline crawled into her father's lap and wearily closed her eyes. Barnum and Charity looked at one another.

"Bedtime," Charity murmured. Barnum nodded and lifted the girl in his arms as he stood. Charity helped tuck her in.

"I'll see you in the morning?" Charity asked after they'd put Caroline in bed.

Barnum nodded. He cupped her face in his hands and she tilted up as they kissed.

Sweet, tired.

Resigned.

Barnum sighed as she pulled away. He watched her make her way to the door, pausing only long enough to throw one final glance at him over her shoulder.

"Good night, Chairy."

 


	58. 56

The moon shined overhead. Fragments of broken signs littered the grass surrounding the Barnum home. The authorities had come and taken the protestors away, but they hadn't gone willingly. Charity hadn't mentioned the screams, the slurs, that rattled their home. She and Caroline had been forced to hold each other, tearful and frightened, as Barnum laid unconscious on the floor.

The protestors hadn't gone willingly.

Some hadn't gone at all.

Crawling out from his place beneath a thick batch of bushes, the man's hand fumbled for his pocket. He grinned, teeth glittering in the moonlight, as he looked upon Phineas Barnum's mansion.

A tiny flame flickered in his hand.

 


	59. 57

_"DADDY! DADDY!"_

Barnum woke up choking on something. Someone - Caroline? - screamed in his ear as he rolled onto his side and heaved like a smoker about to cough up a lung. Small hands pressed into his shoulder and shook him.

"Help," Caroline sobbed, "help, please."

Something crackled above him and he gasped as his brain finally connected with his eyes.

Smoke.

So much smoke.

_"PHINEAS!"_

At Charity's scream, Barnum was up. He scooped up Caroline in his arms and burst through the bedroom door.

The hallway was alight with flame. Charity stood barefoot on the other side, arm up to her face. Tears streaked down his cheeks.

"Chairy, hang on! I'm coming!"

" _No time,_ " she screamed, removing her arm from her face. "Get Caroline out of here, Phineas, or so help me—"

Barnum stared at his wife. Flames danced in her eyes.

She nodded.

Barnum spun around and ran back to the bedroom. A spasm of coughs shook him as he set Caroline down. The hysterical girl clung to his arm.

The ringmaster pulled the sheets off the bed, tied them together, and tied one end quickly around the bedpost. Sweat rolled down his forehead as he forced open a window and threw the other end out. It didn't quite hit the ground, but was close enough - they were only on the second floor. Any higher and...

_(no hope)_

...he couldn't think about it.

"You listen to me, Caroline," Barnum rasped as he knelt to be eye-level with his daughter. "You're going to hang on tight to the bedsheets, okay? Pretend you're Rapunzel and the Prince is here to rescue you."

Caroline sobbed as she nodded. Barnum helped her over to the window.

"Hold on tight," he warned.

"Are you c-coming, Daddy?"

"I'm right behind you, baby girl, but you're going to make it out before me, you understand?"

Caroline nodded again.

Barnum helped ease Caroline onto the makeshift tie. The girl was young, but had the strength and grace of a dancer as she slid herself down to the very bottom and jumped off.

Barnum watched until she hit the ground safely.

Then he turned and ran back into the house.

 


	60. 58

Caroline screams as Barnum runs back into the building. Passerbys have started to surround the mansion and one of them - a woman wearing a dark, simple dress - gently takes Caroline by the arm and pulls her back. The girl thrashes and screams for her parents.

Suddenly, somebody shouts. Caroline's head snaps up and she screams again, this time out of pure joy.

With her arm around his shoulders, coughs rattling their every breath, Charity and Barnum stumble out of the burning inferno.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Net Neutrality ends tomorrow. Idek wtf that means, but hopefully this isn't my last update. I'm nervous idk wtf is going on


	61. 59

Phillip is brought out of his slumber by the sounds of low talking - a man and a woman, if he trusts his ears are working correctly. He hears his name - just a murmur in the bustle of the hospital ward - and groans as he rejoins the land of living.

He opens his eyes to see two figures standing in the doorway. One leaves and the figure remaining smiles. "Hey, you."

Phillip's eyes - or, rather, his one good eye - widen as his vision clears. "Phin?"

The sound of footsteps approach him and then the bed is dipping underneath the ringmaster's weight, his hands on Phillip's face. He draws Phillip in for a slow kiss and the younger man sighs as they pull away.

"What are you doing here?" he breathes. He brings his hand up and takes a lock of Phineas' hair, twirling it around his finger. Realizing Phineas is only in his night clothes, he opens his mouth to speak, but the ringmaster beats him to it.

"There was a fire," he whispers. His smile is tired and sad, his eyes heavy. Phillip draws away and gawks at him.

"Another one?! My God!" He winces, but otherwise ignores the fresh flair of pain in his abdomen. "Is everyone all right? Lettie, Anne—"

Phineas rests his hand against Phillip's chest, settling him.

"It was at home. Not the circus."

"What?!" That startled him even more. "My God, Phineas, I—" he blinks, at a temporary loss for words. "I'm so sorry."

"Everyone's safe. Charity and Caroline got out, and Helen's staying with Charity's parents overnight." His lips turn down at the corners. "I guess we'll all have to stay there awhile," he grumbles.

"But, Phin—"

"Shhh." Barnum presses a finger to Phillip's lips to silence him before cradling the younger man's bruised face in his hands. "I've lost everything in two fires now, Phillip, but I was lucky enough not to lose you. Then you were attacked by your own parents and I—"

He chokes up.

"I'll be damned if I let anything else try to take this opportunity away from me," he finishes hoarsely.

Phillip's breath hitches in his throat as Barnum leans forward, brushing their lips together. He can taste the smoke, but it's the softest of kisses, and when the ringmaster pulls away, there are tears shining in his eyes. He caresses the man's cheek and rests his hand against the man's jaw.

"I love you, 'Lip," he whispers. "More than you could ever know."

 


	62. 60

"Phin," Phillip choked as the ringmaster pulled away. He wrapped his arms around the older man's neck and buries his face in his shoulder.

"I love you too," he murmurs. When he looks up again, there are tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry—"

"Don't apologize." Barnum smiles, soft, tired, and wipes the tears from Phillip's eyes. He leans in for another kiss, but winces.

"You've been through a lot," Phillip frets. "Are you being checked? You probably took in a lot of smoke."

"The doctor's coming, yes," Barnum confirmed. Phillip sighs in relief.

"Lie down," he murmurs, motioning toward the other bed. The room is meant for two, the two beds side by side, but the second bed is empty. Barnum nods and sighs as he lowers himself onto the bed. He lies back and closes his eyes, a deep sigh escaping him.

"Where's Charity? And Caroline?"

"Being checked in another room. Lots of smoke," the older man murmurs. His eyes stay closed.

Phillip nods and lies his head back. He closes his eyes.

And drifts.

In his state of half-consciousness, Phillip hardly notices when the doctor enters the room. He's startled when the man clears his throat, drumming his fingers against a clipboard.

"Phineas Barnum?" the doctor asks as Phillip opens his eyes.

"Him," Phillip murmurs, gesturing toward the man in the bed beside him. His eyes are still closed so Phillip raises his voice a little. "P.T.? The doctor's here."

Barnum doesn't respond.

"Phin?" Phillip stares at him.

"Perhaps he's fallen asleep," the doctor suggests. But Phillip doesn't hear him.

Wordless, Phillip reaches out and touches Barnum's arm. He shakes the man as hard as he can using his better arm.

Barnum lies still.

 


	63. 61

Phillip's scream is piercing.

The doctor in the room appears by his side in a flash. The man's hands are on his shoulders, but Phillip thrashes. He won't look anywhere but at the unmoving man in the bed beside him.

"Sir? You need to calm down! Sir!"

Phillip tries to reach for the man in the other bed, but the doctor holds him back. He strains against the doctor's hold and it rips a fresh wave of pain through his stitches. His screams grow in pitch, but he doesn't care. He wouldn't care if he bled out right there in that hospital bed.

_Phin is, he is—_

The sound of the screams cause other people, doctors and patients alike, to come running. The doctors try to keep the curious onlookers away, but there are two people that they can't hold back.

Charity.

Caroline.

Phillip's screams dissolve into harsh sobs as he looks at the two, Barnum's wife and daughter, and he brings his hands up to his face. One of the doctors goes over to Barnum

_(his body)_

and attempts to block the sight, but it's too late.

Caroline has seen him.

 _"DADDY!"_ she shrieks. Charity's eyes are horrified and _knowing_ as she tries to hold her daughter back. _"WHAT'S WRONG WITH DADDY?!"_

"Everybody out!" a doctor commands. The other doctors in the room surround Barnum, but

_(it's too late)_

Phillip knows it won't do any good. How long had he been asleep? Could he have helped Barnum had he stayed awake?

_(he was fine before!)_

"Cardiac arrest," one doctor murmurs.

_(was he, though?)_

"Too much smoke intake?"

_(he said he loved you)_

"Most certainly. They call these kind of attacks widow-makers."

_(phineas loved you)_

The room spins. Charity stands mute, clutching her daughter, and Caroline's sobs pierce the air, but the loudest thing of all is the doctors. The damn doctors.

The room is spinning. Darkening. Phillip gasps for breath.

"Time of dea—"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello I am a 19 year old writing Barlyle fanfiction inspired by a certain lil TV show at 1:20 in the morning


	64. 62

All Phillip could do was stare.

He'd woken awhile ago, but had no idea whether it had been minutes or hours since he'd lost consciousness. He laid on his side and stared at the other bed.

The empty bed.

Barnum

_(his body)_

had been removed from the room some time ago. Phillip had screamed again upon regaining consciousness, had demanded to see the ringmaster,

_(his body)_

but nobody would listen. A doctor - the same doctor who had been in the room before - came in and threatened to use sedatives if he continued with his screaming. So Phillip had quieted, as commanded of him, but now he wouldn't say a word. All he could do was stare at the place where Barnum

_(his body)_

had taken his final breath.

The door opened. Phillip didn't turn over.

All he could do was stare.

"Oh, Phillip," somebody whispered. He felt soft hands on the back of his neck, his face. When he still wouldn't turn over, he heard murmuring. He vaguely recognized some voices

_(voices of a past life)_

as some of those in the circus troupe. Anne, Lettie, maybe even Charles. But still, Phillip didn't turn over. Didn't even acknowledge their presence.

All he could do was stare.

 


	65. 63

The other oddities waited for Anne and Lettie outside the hospital room. Anne made eye contact with her brother, threw her arms around him, and sobbed. W.D. stood stoic and mute, but rubbed her back. He stared at the wall, disbelieving, unblinking.

Lettie shuffled over to a chair and sank down into it. She buried her face in her hands and her shoulders shook, but she didn't cry. Not yet. She hadn't processed everything enough yet to cry.

Barnum was gone.

"How are you?" a deep voice asked. Constantine.

Lettie didn't look up. Didn't respond. Much like Phillip - poor Phillip, lying still in that hospital bed right next to where Barnum had last laid - she found she couldn't say a word. She sank into Constantine's touch and he sighed heavily as he rubbed her shoulder.

The albino siblings wept together in a corner and Charles sat against the wall, knees drawn up to his chin, hands pressed against his eyes. It truly was a sorry sight. Lettie looked up only when she heard a wail come from down the hall - a wail that could only come from a child.

Charity - elegant, proud, beautiful Charity - stood across the hall with bloodshot eyes and disheveled hair. Caroline gripped her hand like a vice and continued to wail. She stamped her foot on the ground.

"He promised!" Caroline screamed. "Daddy promised he'd be here for everything. But he lied! He lied!"

She very nearly collapsed on the ground, but Charity bent over and managed to hold her up.

"I want my daddy," Caroline moaned. Her little body shook with the force of her sobs. "I w-want Daddy!"

Charity looked up and made eye contact with Lettie. The bearded woman very nearly gasped at the tears brimming in the widow's eyes.

"We're going to go get Helen," she croaked in a voice that was not her own.

Helen.

Poor, sweet Helen, barely six years of age.

With no idea what had happened since leaving to visit her grandparents.

Lettie watched Charity go with hollow eyes. Caroline's cries quieted the further they got. Lettie turned to look at each and every one of her fellow devastated performers, then her eyes flicked over to the closed door, where Phillip continued to lie in a state of pain and shock.

The circus was, well and truly, broken.

And with that thought, Lettie Lutz pitched her head forward and finally began to sob.

 


	66. 64

When Phillip finally moved, it was to curl himself up into a ball. His stab wound flared with fresh pain, but he bit his lip - hard enough to draw blood - and took it. He buried his face in his knees and didn't look up when the door opened.

"Phillip."

He froze at the sound of the voice that met his ears. Still hugging his knees, he lifted his eyes to meet the source.

Charity Barnum was a shell of her former self. Dark circles rimmed her bloodshot eyes and she was pale. Very pale. She sat on the edge of Phillip's hospital bed - neither of them wanted to even look at the empty bed beside them - and her lips trembled as she spoke.

"How are you?" she whispered.

"The girls?" Phillip's voice cracked. They were the first words he'd spoken since that doctor told him to be quiet, but he wanted to talk about anything other than himself.

Charity sighed heavily. "With my parents. They're - they're not in good shape."

She buried her face in her hands. Phillip looked up at her, unsure of what to do.

"How could this happen?" she moaned.

"I - I'm sorry," Phillip finally whispered. "It's...my fault. If I hadn't - if _we_ hadn't—"

His voice cracked. He couldn't continue.

"He loved you," Charity whispered.

The wail that escaped Phillip's lips was mortifying. He looked down again, unable to look her in the eyes.

Charity took a deep, shuddering breath. Her next words shocked Phillip to the very core and it took a moment for them to sink in.

"Would you...like to see him?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I did research on this and nowadays you can view a body in the hospital mortuary right after the person dies/before they begin autopsy prep. I'm not sure how historically accurate that is (1870s hospital death regulations are a little...errr...harder to research), but just roll with it. :)


	67. 65

Phillip couldn't walk, not with a gaping wound in his abdomen. So - after convincing a doctor that he and Barnum had been close friends - Charity and the doctor helped the man into a wheelchair, and Charity insisted that she could wheel Phillip down herself.

"Are you sure, ma'am?" the doctor stared at her eyes, swollen from crying, and pale face.

"Yes, please. We'd really rather be alone."

Phillip's heart pounded with every step they took closer to the room in which Barnum

( _his body_ )

laid. His stomach rolled and he had to keep himself from leaning over the side of the chair and getting sick.

A doctor waited for them at the door. He nodded and let them inside.

Phillip's wail was nearly a scream and he had to bite his tongue to keep from getting any louder.

Barnum

( _his body_ )

laid on a table in the center of the room. Phillip could only assume he'd be transported to the morgue once they left, but there was nothing else around them. The walls and floor were bare save for the table.

And what remained of Barnum.

"O-Oh," Phillip gasped. His fingers shook and he reached his hand out. Charity wheeled him closer, but hesitated and drew him back.

"I-I don't," the widow gasped and Phillip realized she was crying. Her tears were just as silent as she'd been. "I don't k-know if we can...get closer."

"Please," Phillip whispered.

Charity hesitated another moment longer and Phillip looked back - twisting his body, his wound screaming in protest - in time to see her glance back at the door. Tears were on her cheeks when she turned back around.

They inched closer.

Bile rose in Phillip's throat. He felt like any second now, Barnum would sit up. Sit up and laugh, tell them it was all a joke. He wasn't dead, he was just pretending. It was magic.

( _the magic of the circus_ )

But Barnum did not sit up.

With another gasp, Phillip realized he could reach out and touch him now, if he wanted to. Charity froze up again and refused to get any closer.

Breath coming out in gasps, Phillip reached out. Touched Barnum's hair, stroked it.

Perhaps it was only his imagination, but it didn't seem as soft as before.

Tears fell from his eyes when he realized that Barnum's lips were the faintest hint of blue. His skin was still warm, but it was cooling - it would be much too cold to touch without recoiling soon.

Phillip's body rattled with sobs. He reached out and touched Barnum's hand, flinching slightly. He wrapped his warm hand around the stiff fingers, whimpering when the man didn't squeeze back. The hand was dead in his.

"Oh, Phineas," Charity cried. She finally took a step forward and placed a hand upon his forehead. Bending down, she pressed her lips to his forehead and squeezed her eyes shut.

Phillip wanted to stand up. He wanted to kiss Barnum goodbye as Charity did, peer down at his face - though his eyes had been closed - one more time, in private, before the memorial service and dealing with other people. He wanted - he wanted to tell the ringmaster he loved him one more time in private, without fear of public backlash.

Trembling all over, legs shaking almost too badly to support himself, Phillip Carlyle forced himself to his feet. Charity gasped, but said nothing as he stumbled forward - hand pressing against his abdomen - and peered down at Barnum's face.

White flashes of pain crossed his eyes and Phillip gasped. He stumbled back and Charity helped him into his chair.

"Let's go," she murmured.

"I - I - I—" Phillip gasped. He couldn't speak, could barely even see between his swollen eye and the white dots dancing in front of his vision.

Phillip's stomach twisted again. He felt woozy, felt that familiar sensation of wanting to throw up creep back upon him.

They closed the door on Phineas Barnum one last time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so! I've never been to a viewing of a body at a hospital, but I've been to funerals and private viewings and such - the last one being in 2016, so fairly recent. I don't think you ever forget the feeling of kissing a deceased person's forehead sooooooooooo I kind of based the experience on that.


	68. 66

Phillip's breathing was labored as the doctor and Charity helped him back into bed. His wound flared with fresh pain and Phillip groaned, loudly. Tears leaked from his eyes and blurred already fuzzy vision. When the door opened, it took him a moment to realize who it was.

"A-Anne?" he gasped.

"Hi." She smiled sadly and sat on the edge of his bed. Taking one of his hands in hers, she brought it up to her lips and kissed his knuckles. His fingers shook.

"Anne," he whispered. "I—"

He squeezed his eyes shut, tried to stop the tears. She wiped a tear from his cheek and he opened his eyes to meet hers. They were devastated, red-rimmed. She took a deep breath.

"We talked," she murnured. "And we - we don't want to close the circus, Phillip. We don't think that's - that's not what Barnum would have w-w—"

She choked on the last word, bowed her head. Anne, who had remained strong through the fire. Anne, who had dealt with discrimination and prejudice her whole life. Anne, who—

Who was one of the first ones to accept him and...Phineas.

"Phillip," she choked, squeezing his hand tight. Her next words came out in deep, shuddering breaths.

"Will you be our ringmaster?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a Turn I was Not Expecting, but Anne is a Strong Independent Woman okay, you do you


	69. 67

Phillip's eyes widened. His swollen eye was unseeing, but his face drained of all color.

"Wh-What?" he gasped, wheezing as he breathed. "I - I—"

He began to hyperventilate. Anne's eyes were almost equally as wide and she laid her hands on his shoulders, soft hair brushing against his face.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry, it was selfish of us to ask this of you while you're in this state." Her hands fell from his shoulders and she stepped away. "Please, rest up. Your wound isn't even healed." Her eyes fell to his abdomen and, though she couldn't see it through the hospital gown he wore, she flinched anyway. "We can talk later," she promised.

Pain ripped through Phillip's body like a wave of fresh hell. Sobbing, he gripped the sides of the bed and squeezed his eyes shut, agony contorting his features.

"I'll go get a doctor," Anne said hurriedly. Her voice sounded very far away. "They'll bring you medicine. I'm sorry, Phillip."

He felt the ghost of her lips on his forehead before the pain pulled him under and he was lost in the sea of unconsciousness once more.

 


	70. 68

When they checked on him, some few hours later, he was unresponsive. Face pale, lips blue, just as Phineas Barnum was.

Blood in his gut, they said. The wound had re-opened, internally, and nobody had known - not until it was too late. He'd bled out from the inside and, when he'd fallen unconscious with a Ms. Anne Wheeler in the room, he'd simply never woken up again. Unlike before, they had simply been too late for any attempt to try to save him. It was a fairly painless way to go, all things considered.

When they received the news, the circus acts simply - deflated. There was no trying to save the circus this time. There was no trying to rebuild from the ashes that the Barnum fire had unleashed upon their lives. Life was funny like that sometimes - spend twenty-five years building a dream, and it all comes crumbling down with a simple match.

So it goes.

The Carlyles were notified, and the charge on Mr. John Carlyle was upped from attempted foul play to murder. It was the talk of the town - Phillip Carlyle, stabbed to death by his very own father. And with P.T. Barnum, the circus king, the man Phillip Carlyle allegedly had an affair with having succumbed to the fire not forty-eight hours before—

Some called it bittersweet, even going so far as to compare the case to that of Romeo & Juliet. Most others said it was God's punishment for embracing the sins of homosexuality in the first place.

The doctor in charge of Phillip Carlyle's case sighed and shook his head as he covered the man's forever-sleeping face with a sheet. It really was a shame, what happened. But such is life.

So it goes.

*

The circus laid abandoned by the docks, the oddities having given up all hope of ever restoring it to its former glory. As the sun set and evening settled over New York, a homeless man snuck into the tent. Using odd bits and pieces of abandoned equipment lying around, the homeless man sparked a fire. He sighed as he held up his cold, trembling hands to the flame - the only light in the otherwise dark, silent docks. Slumping against an old cardboard box, the man closed his eyes and soon fell asleep.

And the fire burned.

**_End_ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my next Barlyle fic - titled Ashes to Ashes - is coming as soon as I have a cover!


	71. Ashes to Ashes

My new Barlyle fic is up! It's called _Ashes to Ashes_ \- check it out!

Oh, and don't forget to give _Hang Up Your Coat_ some love too. :)

 


End file.
